Unstoppable Force
by Saphrae
Summary: What would you sacrifice to save the world? To kill an Endbringer? To save a friend? How do you know when the price is right?
1. Unsinkable Ship

**Author's Note:  
** I am not Wildbow, I do not own Worm, and I am making no money from this story. This story is beta'd by the fabulous SlowMercury. It would not be the great story it is without her, in so many ways. Thank you, SlowMercury!

 **Chapter One: Unsinkable Ships**

 **January 31, 2011**

The smoke was heavy on the ground, and even 50 feet up in the air, it wasn't much easier to breathe. Intrepid coughed slightly, trying not to let his partner notice. If Strapping Lad had even a hint of how much he currently hurt, Intrepid knew he would be grounded immediately, and he knew it wasn't necessary. Not yet. He could stand with his team for another round at least.

The wristbands relayed the next set of coordinates and Intrepid joined his teammates in racing towards the apartment building. It was surprisingly intact despite being well within the most recent blast radius. Behemoth had continued north, swatting at Alexandria yet again, and the Wards took advantage of the distraction to grab as many injured capes as they could.

Intrepid was directed one floor up from his teammates, where he found a single cape leaned against the wall under a broken window. Glass had fallen around her, and her clothes didn't seem to offer much protection. She was talking into her wristband, staring out the window, oblivious to her rescue as Intrepid flew closer.

"I need a flyer to get me up above Behemoth. I can end this. Damn it, send me anybody!"

There was no response from the wristband as Intrepid settled beside her. She glanced at him without surprise, though she hadn't acknowledged his approach in any way. "You can't evacuate me. I can kill him. I can end this if I can just get above him. The angle's wrong from here, I need to get up above him. Will you take me?"

It was the sort of split-second decision that got him in trouble all the time. On one hand, if she'd been asking Dragon for a ride and had been denied, there might be a good reason. On the other hand, it was a chance to end the fight and save a hell of a lot of lives. Really, it wasn't a choice at all.

He scooped her up bridal style, feeling jeans that were sticky with blood but not hearing any sound of pain. She looped her arms behind his neck. Together they climbed into the air, passing the 5th story of the buildings around them, then the 10th, then the 15th. All the while, they angled towards Behemoth who was still wading north through the streets of New York, now chasing Alexandria at a decent clip, made mostly of long bounds. Watching the range of the monster's jumps, Intrepid added another 100 ft to their height, now flying above some of the shorter buildings around them.

The wind was screaming past them as she leaned up to yell in his ear, "Whatever happens, don't drop me!"

They were nearly on top of him now, and he didn't have time to ask what she meant. As they began to match Behemoth's speed, Intrepid noted that he didn't look so scary when he was far enough away to be covered by a basketball and also, he might be a little punch-drunk from fighting. Without warning, the girl hooked one elbow around his neck, and let go with the other so that she was half-hanging from him and half-facing the enemy.

She made a motion with her free hand that ended with her pointing at Behemoth, and shouted something that Intrepid couldn't understand over the sound of the wind. Starting from the end of her finger, a distortion rippled out like a force field. A moment later, it was obvious that it was falling away from them, growing as it dropped away. The field seemed suspended between six green vertices, connected with a cross-cross pattern of green lines. As it expanded, closing in on Behemoth, the green lines suddenly networked.

A moment later, the net touched Behemoth, still matched to his velocity, and there was a rush of wind and an updraft that turned Intrepid head over heels. By reflex, he clutched his passenger tighter and held on as they were thrown through the air.

Just as suddenly, it was over, and Intrepid forced himself upright, hovering against gravity, still supporting the now-limp cape. He opened his eyes, and froze.

His first thought was that he'd been moved in time. The buildings were repaired, pristine, the road a rich black with perfect yellow lines and the glass windows around him gleamed in the sunlight. Behemoth was nowhere to be seen.

Slowly, he hovered toward the street and realized that the civilians were still missing, and all the capes were still assembled. Only the enemy - and the destruction - was gone. He touched down, still using his power to reduce the weight of his passenger so that he could hold her easily, and realized only after the fact that his ankle felt great. So did his lungs, and his neck, and the scarring in his shoulder that he had been told would never heal. In fact, looking around, everything looked like he felt. The whole city, every costume of every cape, even the weeds, looked like they'd gotten a good night's sleep, a hot shower, and a hearty breakfast. He glanced down, and stopped walking.

After the miracle around them, the cape's condition was a harsh blow. Her jeans were still soaked in blood, and now that he was paying attention, he could feel more pumping out over the hand resting at her knees. Her hair was blond at the roots, but matted with dirt, soot, and more blood. Her jean jacket was sliced through, and her blouse was torn to the edge of modesty. Only her mask was intact - a white leather that covered her entire face from upper lip to hair line, with semi-large eye holes. She was wheezing unevenly, but was otherwise unconscious.

He knelt to put her on the ground where he could assess her injuries, and realized as he did so that the armband was silent. For the first time since this miserable day had started, the list of injuries and deaths had stopped. Casual inspection didn't show any obvious source of bleeding - her jeans weren't even ripped - and he took a moment to send a message to Dragon as he gathered her up again to head to medical.

"We need a healer."

"Panacea is standing by." Hearing Dragon's personal voice, and not a computer generation, was shocking. Processing what she said took another couple seconds. By that time, he was already flying full pelt for the staging area. A heartbeat later, a beam of light solidified over his shoulder. A glance showed that Legend had decided to shadow them. The hero looked grim and serious, not at all like the smiling PR posters and interviews had portrayed him.

Intrepid wanted to twist around and ask what was going on, but the medical staging area was already in view, and he focused instead on slowing from his 30 mph cruising speed without jostling his passenger.

When he landed, Panacea was waiting next to a bed, and he carefully set the girl down on it. Immediately, Panacea put one hand on her exposed arm and the other on her abdomen and bowed her head in concentration. Legend landed behind them, and Intrepid suddenly realized that he was standing in the middle of the Triumvirate, with a good portion of the rest of the mobile Protectorate standing a ways off, watching. Alexandria was standing a few yards away talking to Eidolon, and Intrepid could see Ranger, Eidolon's second, listening closely. The familiar faces of his local Protectorate leaders helped, but Intrepid still felt a little overwhelmed by the fact that he was standing in the presence of so many important heroes.

Even though Eidolon was the head of the Houston Protectorate, Intrepid hadn't had much interaction with him, and what little experience his did have was not nearly enough to lessen the impact of seeing America's three greatest heroes standing side by side by side.

"She's healing slower than usual, but I've managed to stabilize her system." Panacea announced, and instantly Alexandria and Eidolon were _right there_.

"I wasn't aware that your healing could be resisted?" Alexandria asked, and Panacea gave her a glare. Intrepid wanted to laugh in nervous respect. Standing up to Alexandria took serious backbone, or stupid heroism.

"It's not an active resistance, just a slower response. It happens sometimes, but most of her wounds are healing without issue. There is however a disconnection between her inner ear and the relevant portion of her brain which I can't effect."

"Her inner ear?"

"She's deaf." There was a moment of silence, and Intrepid had to struggle to keep from laughing at the irony. Yes, he was definitely punch-drunk and coming off the high of combat. But he'd have to live with it, because he was currently standing among the most powerful capes in America and he hadn't been asked to leave yet.

After exchanging a significant glance with Eidolon, Alexandria suddenly turned to face him. Intrepid swallowed and forced himself not to take a reflexive step back. Alexandria was talking to him! Even knowing intellectually that Eidolon was the stronger cape, Alexandria was somehow much more intimidating.

"Report."

It took only a moment to put his thoughts in order. "Strapping Lad, Young Buck, and myself were assigned to medical evacuations. We were directed to a high rise that Behemoth had already passed, and we found a number of capes on the fourth floor. I didn't recognize them. Only two were critical, so I proceeded to the fifth floor where I heard yelling. She was shouting at her wristband, asking for areal assistance to carry her above Behemoth. There was no answer. She asked for my help directly, and told me that if I wouldn't help I could leave because she refused to be evacuated. She said she could kill him. I decided it was worth a chance."

Here Intrepid took a deep breath, and wished that Alexandria would blink. He was trying to meet her eyes, but every couple seconds he would have to glance away. She had a very commanding presence.

"I flew her up above Behemoth, I'd guess about 200 or 300 feet above him. We were matching his pace when she leaned up and told me not to let go. Then she shifted to face more towards him, pointed, and there was a sort of field that started falling towards him. It a criss-crossed design, not solid, and when it hit Behemoth there was a huge gust of air. When I got us right side up, everything was fixed."

"Can you draw the design on the field?"

He nodded, and took the paper that was offered to him.

"It started out like this." He said, drawing a shallow V and then a second one upside down on top of it, to create a diamond with an open triangle at each end. He drew it big enough to take over the whole page. "It expanded as it fell, and then this appeared." In the center diamond, he repeated the pattern. Because of the shape of the diamond, it created a row of 3 connected diamonds. "Then it filled in like a net, but the center was always the densest part of the design."

Dragon's voice spoke from one side, and he saw an open laptop with her face displayed. "It's a Nordic rune called Inguz. It has a lot of possible meanings, most associated with death or rebirth. It's also symbolic of an ongoing action, or of an end that leads to a new beginning. It is associated with male fertility."

"Or it's a diamond net pattern, growing from the inside out." Eidolon said, sounding irritated. "No way to know without asking."

"Well, I can't wake her up, but I can tell you that she will wake up soon." Panacea said, finally removing her hands from the cape. "I've done everything I can."

The comment made Intrepid take another look around the ER room that was serving as the receiving triage area today. Everything had been touched with the same miracle as the rest of the city: there wasn't a single drop of blood nor a patient to be seen. The cloth on the chairs was bright blue, and the white paint looked fresh. Metal gleamed everywhere like it had been polished. The superheroes filling the room liked they were ready for a photo shoot.

"We will need a translator for her." Dragon said, "I've contacted a local service but the administrator isn't sure if they have anyone in the area. I'll call the evacuation shelters closest to you next." The screen went blank as Dragon signed off and turned her computer to other purposes.

A cape in a simple suit and domino mask walked over to their group and spoke to Alexandria without waiting to be acknowledged. "None of the other capes in that building remember seeing her. They do describe a green-ish force field that went up as Behemoth passed them and absorbed some sort of energy blast. The windows were blown into the building by a strong wind, but there was no other damage. There are no reports of her powers or costume in any database we can find. Today may have been her first cape fight."

"First _cape_ fight?" Alexandria asked forcefully.

"Dragon has supplied us with the recordings of her requests for an air lift. Her voice is certain when she says that she can kill him. A more minor thinker was already directing a cape her way when Intrepid arrived on scene. She knew what she was doing, but somehow she got that experience without us seeing hide or hair of her before."

"Could she be a time traveler?"

"We don't believe so." Belatedly, Intrepid realized that this man was representing the thinkers and precogs who were working together to coordinate the fight against Behemoth.

"Is she a hero?" Legend asked. Intrepid sucked in a breath as it hit him that the high concentration of power wasn't just about curiosity and authority. They were carefully surrounding the cape that had _killed Behemoth_ in case she was unfriendly. It was unthinkable, to take advantage of her while she was down, violating the Endbringer truce, but that was exactly what they were doing. The thinkers were scrambling for as much information as possible while she lay there, defenseless.

It didn't make perfect sense, because it wasn't necessary for Panacea to heal her if they thought she might be a threat. But he realized that part of the reason he was still on-edge was because everyone around him was ready to fight at the drop of a pin.

"We don't believe she's a villain." The thinker replied, and Intrepid forced himself to pay attention to what was happening right now. It was a good thing, to take precautions against an enormously powerful cape. That's all this was, caution. No one had crossed any lines, yet. "The use of white in her mask and blouse is a good sign, and the casualness of exposing the back of her head, as well as the simplicity of entire costume speaks to the fact that she is likely a rogue or hero. Additionally, very few solo villains respond to Endbringer calls."

"Your powers don't tell you anything more concrete?"

"She appears to be resistant to most Thinker powers. Only mildly, but with the limited data available…" Alexandria nodded in understanding, looking concerned.

"Stay here, and see if you can read more when she wakes up."

"Of course."

It was a long seven minutes to wait. The Protectorate continued to talk, discussing what little was known about the prone cape, and occasionally other heroes arrived and went to stand with their teammates in forced casualness. At one point, Ranger approached him and told him to rejoin his teammates outside. The thinker immediately countermanded the idea, and explained that his was the closest thing they'd found to a friendly face. He was the only one with personal interaction they knew about.

Ranger wasn't happy, and Intrepid noticed that he stayed within arm's reach thereafter. By contrast, Eidolon hardly seemed to notice that Intrepid was there. He was evidently satisfied to leave the Ward to his second in command, as usual.

The actual waking up was anti-climactic. She groaned a bit, shifted slightly, and opened her eyes. She looked around, and then sighed. Cautiously, either to avoid startling the heroes or to respect her aches and pains, she sat up on the hospital bed. "The Triumvirate I know," she said with a cadence that was slightly off but otherwise perfect English. "Can we start with introductions for the rest, first?"

"You are not deaf?" Alexandria asked, her voice calm but her body much more tense than it had been a moment ago.

"I am. But I read lips well. If you speak at a normal tone and speed, one at a time, and face me, I will be able to follow. If you go too fast, I will tell you."

Immediately, she glanced away from Alexandria to look at Intrepid. Without meaning to he said, "I'm Intrepid."

"Intrepid." She repeated with a smile. "You were the one who lifted me?"

"I was." She was still looking at him, so Intrepid did what felt natural. He waved at Ranger, over one shoulder. "This is Ranger. We're from Houston."

"Your boss."

"How did you know?"

"He is the one most protective of you. Five adults here, 20 more in the room, and he's worried about you. Even though you're the only one _not_ scared of me." Intrepid felt himself smiling back, because she was right. Several major powerhouses had lined up for the worst case scenario, and he couldn't help but think that Buck was going to be real jealous when he found out Intrepid had had front row seats to the cape that had killed Behemoth.

She looked to the man in the suit. "You are a thinker?"

"Company." He said, a little shorter than Intrepid thought was necessary.

"I've never heard of you before."

"I have a very specific skill set." To Intrepid, that sounded ominous. But she treated it like a normal reply, and glanced back at Alexandria, who was ready with a question of her own.

"What is your name?"

"I told the wristband. I am Contract." Intrepid didn't see any way that contracts related to force fields, healing, banishing, restoring, or destroying. He could almost see the others trying to make the same connections and failing.

"How long will the reprieve last?"

"Reprieve?"

"From Behemoth. How long until he reappears?"

"Never. He's gone. Permanently."

"And the restoration of the city? Also permanent?"

"The healing and restoration is a one-time event. It has been healed. Now it will begin to suffer normal wear and tear again."

Dragon's screen switched back on. "Hello everyone. I've located a translator and sent a cape to fetch her, she'll be here in a few minutes. Hello Contract."

Contract smiled at Dragon like she had smiled at Intrepid. Not personal, but honest. "Thank you for the courtesy, but I won't be staying in New York much longer. Now that the Endbringer is dealt with, I'd like to get out of town before the truce ends."

The adults exchanged looks, and Alexandria asked the question they all seemed to be thinking. "You're a villain?"

"No. But I do have enemies, and I don't intend to let them find me."

"We can protect you."

Contract's face got a little colder. "Is that an offer or an order? I can protect myself. I'm not looking to join any team."

"You're a lone hero capable of defeating an Endbringer. Every villain in the world will want to eliminate you or control you. We can help."

Contract was quiet for what felt like a really long time. "Okay then. I guess I'm your newest Ward." Alexandria and Company both looked shocked for a split second before they hid it, and Contract laughed. It was more bitter than amused.

"I'm not an idiot. Successfully resisting the might of the Protectorate and a thinker specifically focused on understanding and manipulating human behavior is pretty long odds. Nothing less than potentially catastrophic power will get past the capes in this room, and I just _saved_ New York, so I'm not eager to break it again, thanks. I don't want to shoot my way out and you know it, making all bluffing impossible. Surrender is the only logical option."

Intrepid felt his gut clench a little at her speech. She sounded resigned and jaded. He half expected the Triumvirate to tell her it was a misunderstanding, they wouldn't hold her against her will, she was free to go. That did not happen. Instead, she was led in one direction and Ranger gently directed him in the opposite direction, out the door and towards the transport that would take them back to Houston.


	2. Do you want some exposition?

**Chapter Two: Do You Want Some Exposition?**

 **February 18, 2011**

Jason officially, completely, and totally hated rain. He loathed it. He despised it.

It had been raining for three days. Off and on, heavy and light, mist, rain, downpour, buckets, and sprinkling. Raining while they carried boxes in. Raining while they unpacked, while they cooked, while they tried to sleep.

He had known that he would hate moving. He would hate the packing up and leaving behind, the loss of the familiar and the reliance on the foreign. He would hate the hassle, the lack of sleep, and the losing of things he swore he packed _right here_. He thought he might even hate the city a little, at first, for being _not-home_. He didn't know it would be possible to hate the weather. He had learned that lesson real fast.

Jason's father wasn't around to help with the process of moving, having already started work the day they arrived. The new job was half the reason they'd moved to Brockton Bay. Jason knew he was the other half. His mother didn't want him traveling an hour or more to Houston to be a Ward. After repeated arguments, she had accepted that he wouldn't stop being a hero. Which meant that when the chance came up to move to a city with its own Protectorate base, she encouraged his father to seize it. It didn't seem to occur to her that a city dangerous enough to warrant its own base might have drawbacks. She just wanted him home in time for dinner.

Today was his first day reporting to his new team, so Jason bussed across town, around the bay, and to the front door of the PRT office. He showed his card at the reception desk, went into the public restroom, changed in a stall, then exited out a secret back door which deposited him back in the main lobby in a round-about way. Intrepid then called the Ward's elevator, stepped in, and scanned his eye for a more positive identification. After orientation, he'd been promised a tour including more discrete entrances.

When the doors opened, Triumph was waiting for him, sitting on the edge of a desk, reading an iPad. He glanced up and smiled warmly, like he was greeting an old friend. Intrepid tried to smile back, but, truth be told, he was still busy hating the rain.

"Welcome, Intrepid. How are you liking Brockton Bay?"

"Uh, hi. It's different, I guess. But nice." He shook the offered hand and tried again to smile.

"Liar." Said a teasing female voice from further in the room. "You hate it. You hate the change, the size, the busyness, and the rain." The voice was familiar, but not enough to actually place it. Triumph grimaced but didn't speak. Intrepid followed his eyes to a girl sitting with her back to them. Her feet were bare, propped up on the edge of a desk, keyboard in her lap, typing away at what looked like a programming code. He could see short blonde hair and pale skin, but not enough to give away her identity. A moment later, she swung her feet off the desk, swiveled the chair, set the keyboard aside, and stood up in a single, gracefully intimidating movement.

Looking at her full on, it took him several long moments to recognize her. When he did, his jaw dropped. He hadn't expected to ever see her again. "Contract?"

"Hey. Good to see a friendly face." Out of the corner of his eye, Intrepid saw Triumph wince again.

"No kidding. Glad to know someone here. How have you been?"

"You don't want an honest answer to that. Trust me. You'll sleep better."

"Your voice sounds a little, different." It was missing the slightly off cadence from before.

"Yeah, I've been told my deaf pronunciation needs a little more work."

"You're _not_ deaf?" As soon as it was said, Intrepid wanted to take it back. It seemed terribly rude. Instead, Contract laughed a little bit.

"Not at the moment. On balance, I tend to spend about a third of my time deaf. I've been hearing for the past two days."

"How does that work?"

"Well, it's easier to be deaf than it is to be blind, so given the choice I give up my ears." She was grinning mischievously, and Intrepid thought she might actually be telling the truth. It didn't make sense, but that was the impression he got from her.

"I didn't know you were here."

"That's the idea. No one is supposed to know that I'm here. My own protection, don't you know." Her tone suggested otherwise. Triumph coughed uncomfortably and finally spoke up.

"You're supposed to be on monitor duty, and I need to get Intrepid checked in."

"Catch you later." Her smile was a little cruel now, like she was glad that she'd made Triumph uncomfortable. She was already turning back to her chair, feet up, fingers clicking away.

"We'll do paperwork in here." Triumph said, walking into an attached office a little too quickly.

Intrepid kept quiet while they excused themselves, but as soon as the door was shut he pounced. "What's she doing here? I thought she didn't want to be part of the Protectorate?"

Triumph look away, body language betraying guilt. "She's not thrilled with it, true. But she's being very closed mouth about why. All we know is that she thinks there's some sort of conspiracy. She's refused to tell us anything about herself, her past, her powers…. It's a mess. But the reality is that she took out an Endbringer. If she wanted out, I sort of doubt that we could stop her."

"She's shown her civilian identity?"

"Just her face. The PRT had to create a fake name and background records to use to enroll her in school. The Director asked us to share our faces with her to help build a sense of friendship. Vista, Gallant, and Clockblocker revealed the first day. Kid Win and Shadow Stalker forgot about a week later revealed themselves by their own stupid mistakes, two different occasions, back to back. Aegis she figured out when he mentioned something in his civilian face that she told him when he was in costume. I offered to show her my face right after Kid Win, since I was in the room, but she accurately pointed out that I'm graduating in a few weeks, and used that to give me an out. I think it was just an excuse, but I'm not sure why she doesn't like me. I'm also a little concerned that she knew I'm on my way out, because I don't think anyone else mentioned it. Just… be careful with any secrets you have. She's got a Thinker 2 rating, and personally I think it's a little low."

"What did she say about her powers?"

"Basically nothing. She said she makes trades. No elaboration. Then we get hints like what she said about choosing to give up her ears. We're not sure what it all means."

"Sounds like it'd be hard to trust her in the field."

"We haven't so far, really. She works the monitor and she'll be starting school next Monday. She's gotten settled into her foster situation and we're going to wait another two weeks before we field her, except for on-campus calls. That will be explained more in a bit. Hopefully that will be long enough to build trust."

"Sounds like you've got it all worked out."

"Now we just need to get you settled in. We're going to enroll you in Winslow High School. Traditionally, Wards go to Arcadia High, but that's become a bit of a problem. People are trying to identify us, and we've had a few near-misses. So we are opening a second program at Winslow. In Arcadia, we go to class on campus half the day, and then we have private lessons for the second half, both online classes and other things specific to being parahuman. You'll spend most of the day at Winslow, with the two classes before lunch being private study, and then the last period you get free. You'll join our lecture in the afternoon and take internet courses during the morning."

"The schedule won't stand out?"

"A number of students have extended lunch periods, and the second period of the day is the one spot used for kids visiting other campuses to take limited-availability arts and such. Students with too few classes don't take last period, so you're not the only one leaving campus early."

"Alright. What do I need to know about the local scene?"

"Well, you'll see a little more action than you're used to, and it'll be a little less planned. Whoever is on the monitors will be in contact with you when you're on patrol and can call help to your location. We have three major gangs in Brockton Bay…"

* * *

By the time Jason was done with Triumph, it was getting late. The tour ended back in the Ward's headquarters so they could change out of costume, and he saw that Vista was now on monitor duty. Contract, however, was still in the main room, reading a paperback book. Triumph wished her an awkward good-bye and she offered a silent wave. It was very different than the bubbly impression he'd gotten from her earlier. As soon as Triumph was gone, she looked up at Jason, folding a page and shutting the book.

"How was your first day?"

"It was the same as the first day in any place. Orientation, paperwork, information overload." She laughed quietly, then poked a chair with her foot, inviting him to join her at the conference table.

"Take a seat. Did you decide if you're going to reveal your civilian identity?"

"I will. I have, actually. I'm going to be a Ward for several more years, so it makes sense." Jason took off the domino mask and ran a hand through his hair. Then he shook her hand. "Jason."

"Elizabeth Mason."

"Really?"

"That's the identity the PRT set up for me. Someday I'll tell you my real name, when I can trust you."

"Puts me at a disadvantage."

"Hardly. Your physical and emotional safety is entirely guaranteed by your status as a Ward."

"The same doesn't apply to you?"

"No. You're just a foot soldier. I'm a potential hostile. One toe out of line, they'll hang me by it."

"Seems harsh. What makes you so sure?"

"I can't tell you. In order to explain why I distrust the PRT and Protectorate, I'd have to reveal secret identities. Doing so is against the law."

"Capes who commit crimes aren't protected by that."

"What about capes who commit crimes when they're not in costume? What about crimes that only make sense with the civilian's motives and the cape's abilities? What about civilians without a cape identity who use powers to manipulate the system?"

"They'd be caught. There's whole offices full of thinkers looking for that sort of thing." She shrugged, unsurprised and un-phased. Jason got the sense that he'd disappointed her, somehow, but that she'd expected it. "At least give me something real." He said after a moment, feeling unsure.

"My friends called me Fi."

"Like, short for Fiona?"

"Sure." He knew instantly that his guess had been wrong, but at the same time, he was pretty sure she was being honest about the nickname.

"Okay, Fi. I better go, Mom's waiting with dinner."

"Be safe." She said, very sincerely. As he stood, he realized that Vista had been behind him the whole time, watching the monitors. Before he left, he walked over to shake her hand and introduce himself. She told him her real name was Missy. He wanted to apologize for ignoring her, but she didn't seem at all upset, so he decided just to leave it be.

On the bus ride home, he reflected on what Fi had said and what she had refused to say. Based on what Triumph had told him, she'd shared about as much with him today as she'd told the entire PRT. It was easy to imagine her giving them unhelpful non-answers or passive aggressive silence. It wasn't easy to imagine why.

Contract had killed an Endbringer. She'd had the ears of every important parahuman in America, all standing there listening to her. She hadn't tried to convince them of any sort of conspiracy. Did she think they were all in on it? If so, why not reach out to other countries? Several foreign governments sent help during an Endbringer fight. She could have reached out. She could have tried to escape. She hadn't.

But she hadn't truly surrendered either. Not if Triumph was to be believed, and there was no reason to think he'd lied. Intrepid decided that the situation was worth watching. And then he shut off the part of his brain that thought about conspiracies and Jason stepped off the bus, into the light drizzle, and slowly walked home through the rain.


	3. Welcome to the Jungle

**AN** : I hope you have enjoyed the rapid posting rate. I will do my best to update frequently, but I don't want to commit to a schedule because I'm going to be moving twice in the next three months. I can promise you all that reviews won't hurt the posting rate! You guys can thank Bobboky for getting this chapter 24 hours earlier than I originally intended.

 **Chapter Three: Welcome to the Jungle**

 **February 21, 2011**

Winslow High School was a nightmare. All three gangs were present in a way that made Triumph's point apparent. The Wards in Brockton Bay did more because there was more work to do. And that basic fact was apparent everywhere. Lockers were decorated red and green gang tags. It seemed like at least twenty percent of the senior guys had shaved or buzz cut heads. Four girls came into his first period class completely stoned. It was a wakeup call.

But it was also encouraging. Three gangs were subtly existing on top of each other, but there were no eruptions of violence. Some sort of truce had been established so that the gangs could recruit, posture, and verbally rib each other without a fist fight in every passing period. It was surreal, to see how entrenched the gangs were. But it was also nice to know that he wouldn't be forced to use powers and expose himself to keep someone from being killed.

During second period he met up with Fi in a 3rd floor classroom where the principle was waiting for them. Blackwell was a slim woman, not horrible looking, but sort of androgynous. Her suit was rumpled and she looked a bit haggard given the early hour of the day.

He'd barely taken a seat when Blackwell snapped at them. "I can't spare the personnel to watch you, so you two are going to have to keep your heads down and keep quite. Officially, you're both in online studies to keep up in classes offered at your previous schools but not offered here. We're treating this as a pilot's program, and in two weeks we'll include more students - anyone willing to bring their own laptop with the grades to qualify. When that happens we'll split to two classrooms and you'll both need to switch back and forth so that if you're ever missing from class, each set of students will assume you're in the other room. As part of our deal with the PRT, you are to be on-call for any on-campus incidents. That means that you wear this pager while on campus and keep your costumes accessible. If we have another fight like this morning, we'll call you in and the band will vibrate. Put it on your ankle. You have 10 minutes to respond to a call. If you're not in a study class, ask to be excused from your regular class. All teachers have been instructed not to ask questions. If you abuse this privilege, you will face in-school suspension. Do you have any questions?"

"Not at this time." Fi said, very coolly. "If anything comes up, I'll email you so that you can respond in your own time. I can see that you are very busy."

Despite the crisp delivery, this actually seemed to appease Blackwell. "Very good." She glanced at Jason, but seemed to consider the matter closed. Quickly, he forced himself to speak up before she left.

"What happened earlier this morning?"

"ABB and Empire got into it in the parking lot. No ambulances necessary, thank god, but we had to suspend eleven kids and seven of those left bleeding. I hate Mondays."

With that she left, as though it wasn't at all noteworthy. Jason found his mouth hanging open and glanced at Fi. She didn't seem fazed in the least. "She said that the PRT is lending laptops for us to use as part of the cover. They're in the top right drawer of the teacher's desk, and we're to lock them in there each day when we're done. And not tell anyone that's where they're being kept, of course, and not let anyone see us put them there."

"Did you know about the fight?"

"Sure. I got here as it was breaking up. Nothing worse than bruises and a couple cuts. Four or five knives were drawn, I understood, but it started as a fist fight and they broke it up before the knives really got involved so no major bloodshed. Everyone was walking, at least."

"That's… that's crazy. I walked through the school this morning and didn't see anything that hinted at bloodshed. A little posturing, a little tension, but knife fights? In a school? How is that normal?"

"Brockton Bay isn't great economically. About 30% of all adults between the ages of 20 and 50 are involved in one gang or another, or else working for villains. That hits the teenagers too. And there's not enough budget to stop it outright, so the best they can hope for is to stop the fights before someone gets sent home in a body bag."

"You knew about this?"

"You didn't? Just over a month ago, early January, a girl got sent to the hospital. She spent a week in the psych ward, and no one has caught the people who put her there yet. Any school where bullying beyond a psychotic breaking point is not worth investigating is a school with big issues. Assuming the staff isn't completely evil, there has to be some reason that she's being ignored."

"What do you mean, ignored?"

"Her face was on the news, briefly. I saw her on the way to class, today. A group of girls had her backed into a corner."

"You didn't do anything?"

"I was already walking away when I realized who she was. I was about to turn around when Sophia came down the stairs. I continued to class so that she could handle it. Less suspicious that way, if someone who's been part of the school steps in."

"Sophia?"

"Sophia Hess, civilian identity of Shadow Stalker." Shock made Jason look over his shoulder reflexively.

"You can't say that. You can't tell me that. Exposing a Ward, even to another Ward, is illegal."

"Relax. She's on probation. I was supposed to brief you because Triumph forgot on Friday. She was a vigilante. At least one kill that they can confirm. She was forced to join up or join juvie. Part of her terms of probation are that she's not allowed a secret identity among her teammates. It's supposed to help her connect and keep her accountable."

"She killed someone?"

Fi laughed, very bitterly. "Welcome to the Protectorate."

"In Brockton Bay, maybe." It felt like he'd dropped into an entirely new world. Gang fights, teenage murderers, murderer teammates… Jason felt a little sick. Fi didn't seem surprised, or even upset, just cynical. Like she'd accepted this was the way the world worked a long time ago, which was not encouraging. Jason wanted to like Fi, and in fact did like her, but he kept discovering sides to her personality that he didn't know how to reconcile. She was open and friendly one minute, then secretive, bitter, and jaded.

She set one of the two pagers on his desk and went to fetch the laptops. Numbly, he clipped it around his ankle under his pants. He'd never been on call during school before. In the past, the Wards were something he did after school, during set hours, and on two weekends a month. It had seemed normal to be issued a phone, if a little bigger-budget than he was used to. Over the weekend he'd received two messages that both read "Incident in progress. Standby Alert L3." He'd assumed it was mostly courtesy, but maybe he'd been closer to being called up than he thought. It was uncomfortable to feel like he could be whistled for.

 **February 23, 2011**

"I'm going to lunch." Jason jerked his head up in surprise, hands hovering over the keyboard.

"We just got back from the fight." He was probably blinking dumbly at her, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out why Fi needed to leave again. They hadn't done much, just showing up in costume had been enough to scare off the un-powered teenagers before anyone got hurt, but between changing clothes and reporting to Blackwell so she could mark the files of the students involved, it had been most of an hour. They had lecture videos from Parahuman Studies to watch.

"I want to find Taylor."

"Who?"

"Hospital Girl. I told you about her."

"I thought Sophia had her eyes on that?" Fi had asked Shadow Stalker about a 'Taylor Hebert' yesterday at the Ward base while Shadow Stalker was resting between sparing bouts with Aegis. (Contract passive aggressively refused to participate in any sparring. To his knowledge, she hadn't shown her powers since she'd erased Behemoth and re-touched 40 square miles of New York City, and no one could really force her to do otherwise without outright attacking her.)

"She was dismissive yesterday when I asked her. Her heart rate went up like she was nervous or irritated. And today I saw Taylor between classes with all her books in her backpack. She was rushing to her next class, and a few girls all made the same hand motion as she passed. I couldn't tell what they were trying to get at, but after the first couple she was practically running to get away. Whatever Sophia is doing isn't enough."

"And what are you going to do?"

"Just go eat with her."

"Why?"

"Because I can." Fi grabbed a sandwich out of her bag, as well as a full bag of carrots, a roll of crackers, and an apple. Jason had noticed that Fi ate a lot. She snacked nearly constantly, and ate large meals at every opportunity. Given that she was thin enough to be a model and didn't work out daily that he was aware of, he had guessed that her power somehow included an increased metabolism. He hadn't reported it, even though Triumph had pulled him aside last night on his way home and asked him what he'd noticed about her. Instead he just told him about her nickname, which she had already grudgingly shared with Aegis and the rest of the team. Her exact words were "Might as well, I guess. Or you could just use Contract." It was hard, to see her holding herself apart from the team. On the other hand, it made him a little happier to know that she'd shared her name with him first, and willingly.

Jason worked in silence for 26 minutes, eating while he watched the video with headphones, until the door suddenly slammed opened and closed.

"That bitch!" Jason jerked, looked up at his enraged teammate, and found himself leaning back.

Contract had never really scared him before. He'd held her while she wiped an Endbringer out of existence, but that had been more surreal than terrifying. At the time, he'd thought of her as a teenager almost as much as he'd seen her as a cape.

That was gone, now. Contract's face was exposed, but her expression was set such that it promised violence more than it conveyed emotion. One hand was curled in a fist, the other was still gripping the door handle, like she was holding onto reality. Her body was tense in a way that seemed dangerous, and Jason found adrenaline pounding his heart. He stood up slowly while she kept ranting.

"That bitch thinks she can do anything! Get away with anything. She honestly believes she is superior. I could wipe the floor with her shiny little superior smirk without brushing even a single deal and she thinks she can't be touched!"

"Hey, hey." Jason said, approaching cautiously, hands out stretched. She looked at him and seemed to actually see him for the first time. She took a deep breath, shut her eyes, and let it out very, very slowly. She kept exhaling even after it seemed like she should have nothing left. Then she repeated the process. Her shoulders slowly sagged and Jason gently, gently, laid a hand on each one, holding her very lightly. She opened her eyes, and she looked as bitter as he had ever seen Fi look. "What happened?"

"It's Sophia. She's the one who put Taylor in the hospital."

It was like sticking his hand into an ice bucket to grab a soda, except that it ran down his spine. "You're sure?"

"Yeah. She didn't say anything that proves it conclusively, but it's her. It's the way she looks at Taylor, and Taylor looks at her. It's the popular influence she's got over the other girls. I couldn't make it line up. I'd seen how popular Sophia was, and how prominent the bullying was. I couldn't make A equal B. Except for the obvious: Sophia is one of the heavy hitters. The girl's probably a little sociopathic."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to shadow Taylor every chance I can. I'm going to watch Sophia like a hawk, in costume and out of costume. I'm going to try to talk to the authorities." She laughed that bitter laugh that Jason was starting to hate as much as he hated rain.

"I'll help."

"No. Not overtly. You stay out of it. After they brush me off, I'll need someone to present hard, undeniable evidence. That's when you can help. You have to keep your record clean until then."

"Why wouldn't they just listen to you?"

"A week in the hospital wasn't enough to get anyone's attention. The word of an untrusted semi-hero won't change that."

"You're a Ward, and _you're_ not on probation."

"But I _am_ the one the PRT is trying to leash, even if it means they strangle me. Look, please, just stay out of it for now? If you're right, and going to the authorities works, no harm done. If it doesn't, we can re-evaluate."

"Okay. Sure."

* * *

On Thursday, Fi disappeared at lunch time to eat with Taylor. On Friday, Jason offered to go with her. She gave him a very long, measuring look, and then locked both their laptops in the top drawer. They met Taylor at the top of the north steps headed down to the second floor. From this position, you could see or hear everyone approaching from a ways off, and there were two other directions to escape to. Hard to box in.

They sat down on the steps, and Fi introduced Jason, then jumped immediately into a conversation he didn't completely follow. "So now do you believe that I am who I say I am?"

"Yes. I guess so." Taylor didn't seem particularly happy with the knowledge. Jason wondered what Fi could have told her, since she had basically no story that existed more than a month ago.

"And did you bring them?" Taylor pulled out a very thick sheaf of papers and handed it to Fi.

"I have print outs of all the emails too."

"Any of the accounts traceable?"

"Not exactly?"

"The emails would still be helpful. I'm a bit of a computer wiz, and I might be able to prove a connection not immediately apparent." Fi was either skimming the pages, or she was an incredibly fast reader. From where he was sitting, he couldn't see what they said. After three pages, she looked up.

"Are the other days representative of these?"

Taylor immediately hunched over defensively. "It's a lot when you're living it."

"Oh, I know. I don't mean to belittle it. If this is all it was, I'd still be ready to go to bat for you. But Taylor, even only knowing you for three days, I'm pretty sure nothing on this scale would have kept you hospitalized for a week. You're strong. So I'm asking if there were any other incidents, besides the day-to-day issues and the locker you talked about yesterday. Give me the worst stuff. Arm me, so that I can fight for you."

Taylor was looking up, cautious but hopeful. Jason gave her a big smile, even though he wasn't sure what was going on. Fi passed him the top couple pages while Taylor answered.

"Well, there was my mom's flute."

 _September 8th_ the paper said. _Six vicious emails, Sophia pushed me down the stairs when I was near the bottom, making me drop my books, tripped and shoved me no less than three times during gym, and threw my clothes at me while I was in the shower after gym class had ended, getting them wet. I had to wear my gym clothes for the rest of the morning. In biology,_

"they got it out of my locker, held it hostage for a couple days, and then I found it in the trash out back. They'd ruined it. Smeared it with… it was ruined."

 _Madison used every excuse she could to use the pencil sharpener or talk to the teacher, and each time she passed my desk, she pushed everything I had on my desk to the floor. I was watching for it the third time, and covered my stuff when she approached, so on the fourth trip, she emptied the pencil sharpener into one of her hands and dumped the shavings onto my head and desk as she walked by._

"They've already ruined one backpack, last year, and they've made more than one attempt to repeat that. Usually Sophia, she's more physical."

 _All three of them cornered me after school had ended and took my backpack from me, throwing it in the garbage. September 9th. Other girls in my grade had been encouraged by those three to make fun of me. I was wearing the backpack they had been thrown in the trash, so every girl that was in on it was holding their nose or saying I smelled like garbage._

"Madison is just the number one hanger on. Emma… Emma attacks personally. She used to be… a friend. And she… she uses that."

 _It picked up steam, and by the end of the day, others had joined in on it. Received hateful emails and had to change address after the inbox filled up at 2:00 PM. Gym class_ …

Taylor stopped talking so Jason stopped reading, looking up. He wasn't sure what his face looked like, but it probably wasn't pleasant. Jason felt a tiny bit sick, and mostly overwhelmed. On one hand, the school had had two close saves with sending kids to the hospital after gang fights and it had only been a week. The staff was clearly overwhelmed. On the other, the gang members had all gotten themselves involved, to one extent or another. Taylor was an innocent victim.

An innocent victim who was being attacked by a Ward. A hero. A murderer.

"Taylor, I am going to help you, but I don't think it will be easy. I don't think it will happen immediately. What I can tell you is that today is the beginning of the end. I promise. May I take pictures of these pages? So I have a reference?"

"I've got scans of most of it. After I got out of the hospital, I went to the library and scanned everything. Just in case I could use it."

"Send those files to this address." Fi handed over her Ward's information card. Jason's heart stopped. Fi had told Taylor that she was Contract. Had she revealed Sophia? She could be given prison time for that, and him too if they thought he'd known about it.

"Why does the PRT care?" Taylor asked, clutching the card like a life-line but not looking up at them.

"I care. The PRT will have to deal with that." So she hadn't exposed Sophia. Still, revealing herself was dangerous on a lot of levels. It meant increased scrutiny to all of her friends. In fact, it compromised his identity, potentially. His only appearance so far was at Wednesday's almost-fight, but two new kids hanging out upstairs half the day and two new capes on campus was already pushing it. Winslow had traded several students to other schools the same Monday they joined, and no one in PR seemed worried, but Jason preferred when he had long stretches of high way between Intrepid and Jason.

"Thank you."

The lunch bell rang, and Taylor gathered her papers back, and then hurried to class.

"We're going to help her." He said, not really as upset about the identities as he should be. Taylor needed a friend.

"Yes, Jason, we are."


	4. Easier Said, than Done

**AN:** I know it's ridiculous to be excited about 3 little reviews, but I am. Plus, I'm really enjoying writing this story. So, instead of everything else I am supposed to be doing, here is the next chapter. Please don't get used to this rate of posting. I'm spoiling myself by writing so much.

 **Chapter Four: Easier Said than Done**

 **February 25, 2011**

After school he had to go home for half an hour to watch his sister until her piano lesson, then he headed to the Wards' headquarters. Evidently, half an hour was all the time Contract needed to kick over the mother of all ant-hills. She was standing in the middle of the Wards' entryway / conference room, with her mask and new Ward-issued costume on. They had kept the jeans, white blouse, and jean jacket at her vicious insistence, but it was nearly unrecognizable as the casual wear it had been. The jeans were done with bold white stitching, with the crisscross Inguz rune on both pockets. They had traded white tennis shoes in for white leather boots. Her jacket was similarly embellished with white stitching and white leather accents at the shoulders and elbows.

Clockblocker was sitting at the monitors, costumed except for his mask, but facing the room and ignoring his duties. Triumph and Kid Win were both in full costume, either just headed out to patrol or just coming back. Deputy Director Renick was in one corner with a squad leader Intrepid didn't recognize yet, and an unknown woman in a suit. Sophia Hess was sitting at the conference table, within striking distance of Contract. She was either incredibly brave or the room was blind, because Contract was rapidly approaching the screaming rage that he'd seen on Wednesday.

"Did I stumble into something?" He asked, walking into the tension carefully. He was naturally closest to Contract due to where the elevator exited. He didn't step closer to her, but he didn't step away either.

Triumph sighed, "Actually you might be able to help. What do you know about Taylor Hebert?"

"I know she was hospitalized for a bit. Bullying, or so I heard. I guess she got trapped in her locker?" Jason made it a question. He didn't want to lie, but he also knew Contract didn't want him getting involved, not yet.

"Have you ever met her personally?" Triumph's bluntness threw his subtlety out the window. He'd have to be truthful and hope for the best.

"We ate lunch together today. She talked to Contract and I about the bullying she's been suffering. In our civilian identities."

"What did she say?"

"She said she's being harassed daily, with incidents varying from mild verbal abuse up to the locker incident that hospitalized her. She's had stuff stolen and vandalized."

"Did she name anyone?"

"She said a lot of girls got into it, but three were ring leaders. A Sophia, a Madison, and…. I don't remember the third. She didn't give last names."

"Any proof?"

"She had typed up notes detailing what she'd been through each day."

The woman in a suit cut in. "Did she give any reason why she didn't take her notes to the actual authorities?"

Being a high school student, Jason could easily understand why she hadn't, especially against popular students. But if the adults had to ask, then they wouldn't understand. He tried to guess if Triumph got it, but he was charismatic and good looking and a jock, so he might not really see. Kid Win's visor made it impossible to read him. "We didn't talk about that."

"Unfounded allegations against 'a Sophia' are hardly sufficient reason to invade privacy." The suited woman insisted, now addressing Contract.

Contract growled over the top of her: "Sophia Hess is the only Sophia enrolled at Winslow high school."

"Sophia's name never came up in investigation this January."

"There was no investigation, this January."

Renick cut them both off. "That's an inquiry for the police station." Contract responded by shifting her glare to Renick. "This is over. I am disappointed in you for listening to slander against a teammate. I don't want to hear anything about this again. I do, however, want all three of you to keep an eye on Taylor. This kind of attack on a Ward's reputation, coupled with a psychotic break, is extremely concerning. She could go Carrie."

Jason was stunned. Since arriving in Brockton Bay, he'd regularly felt like he'd been hit with a 2-by-4 of unreality, but this was approaching absurd. Before his common sense had rebooted, his mouth opened. "Sir, all due respect, but Taylor didn't strike me as a liar." He felt Contract's glare turn to him and backpedaled slightly. "I'm not saying that our teammate is definitely bullying her, but somebody is."

"You are in Winslow to attend classes, and keep teenagers out of the ER. Watch Taylor ONLY if it doesn't interfere with those two goals. Whether she is being threatened or is a threat, I don't want to hear another word about this matter in any form until it seems that someone is headed for the ER. Understand?"

"I understand." Given Contract's currently body language, that ER trip might be a lot closer than anyone else realized, but Jason could see he wouldn't make any more progress today.

"Shadow Stalker? You keep an eye on her too, as your schedule and cover permit."

"Yes, sir."

"Contract, you've done enough. You worry about the gangs."

She gave a jerky nod. For a moment, Jason thought Renick would insist on a verbal answer. Instead, he took his fellow suits and left. Sophia went to her bunk, probably to suit up. As she left, she smirked at Contract and jostled her shoulder just slightly. As soon as she was gone, Contract walked around the table to sit in front of her laptop.

"Contract…" Triumph said, stepping towards her.

"I heard him." She said, fingers hitting the keys with more force than necessary. She looked up at him without lessening the pace or ferocity of her typing and her tone chilled significantly. If Jason hadn't heard her yell, scream, and curse, it would have been the scariest thing he'd ever heard. "I get it. Keep my head down, my mouth shut, show up for fights and for PR. Wear the stupid costume. Toe the party line. You won't have any problems out of me, sir." She made the title an expletive by tone alone. Triumph paused, taken aback, then went to his own room. Jason cautiously approached on her other side.

When he reached the chair next to hers, she spoke. She was obviously trying to be more pleasant, but it wasn't really working. "I'm not going to be a very nice person for the next couple hours. I highly advise that you ignore me. I like you. I really, really don't want to lose my temper with you. You're good people. Please, just don't poke me right now."

"Can I sit here and not poke you?" Her hands suddenly stopped and she looked over, honestly surprised. After a moment, she laughed a little huff through her nose and then smiled a very tiny smile. Compared to the magnitude of her rage, it was nothing. But to him, it was something because it was genuine.

"Yeah." She sounded wistful, longing. "Sure. I'd like that." She turned back to her computer and he got out his iPad to do some school reading. Almost immediately, he got a chat invitation.

 _ClockBoss: How do you do that?_

 _NoFear: Do what?_

 _Lionman: What did he do?_

 _ClockBoss: He calmed the beast. Walked up to her, she said very clearly "do not sit" and he said "you sure" and suddenly she's completely normal again._

The clicking from the monitor console wasn't exactly discrete, and he looked over to Clockblocker to try to mentally signal the need to not piss Contract off by talking behind her back. As he did so, he caught sight of Contract's computer screen. Two-thirds of it was filled with programming code, which she was writing. In one corner, she had a dialog box showing the chat conversation she had certainly not been invited to. She caught his eye, gave a tiny quirk of her lips, and he found a second chat box opening on his pad beside the first.

 _F: I don't mind. They don't mean it badly. I just don't want to deal with people right now. You can even tell them that. Thanks for checking._

Before he could reply, the chat box vanished, so he turned back to the first conversation.

 _NoFear: She said she wanted to not be bothered. All I did was ask if sitting would bother her so long as I didn't talk._

 _NoFear: Fi is pretty honest. She may not be entirely open, but you can take what she does say at face value._

 _ClockBoss: that's the other thing. How'd you get a name out of her?_

 _NoFear: Fi is just a nickname._

 _Lionman: She had them add Fiona as her middle name after she told you that. I think it's her real name._

 _NoFear: I didn't get that impression. I think Fi is short for something else_

 _ClockBoss: Not a lot of options come to mind._

 _NoFear: Does it matter?_

 _ClockBoss: we have no idea who our teammate is. We're supposed to trust her in the field and she obviously doesn't trust us._

Jason glanced at Contract, but if she was watching the conversation scrolling across the bottom of her screen, her face didn't show it. Somehow, that made him more upset on her behalf.

 _NoFear: like you trust a murderer?_

 _Lionman: Is that was today was about? Shadow Stalker made a mistake, an accident. That doesn't justify slander._

 _NoFear: Today was about me being honest when I was put on the spot and interrogated. I had no idea what was going on, and I very politely answered your questions. To be honest, I still have only the slightest idea about what happened. Someone wants to fill me in, I wouldn't object._

There was a bit of a pause.

 _Lionman: We'll talk later. Clock, back to the screens. I've got to patrol with SS._

Jason switched apps over to his reader and belatedly noticed that Kid Win had settled next to him with his own pad. Almost immediately, a new chat box opened.

 _BoyHero: I'm not sure you're completely wrong about SS._

 _NoFear: why didn't you say anything?_

 _BoyHero: It's a big gap between teasing and hospitalization. SS isn't great with Missy and she's mean to me too. She's sarcastic. So she might be taunting Taylor. But there's no way she's locking her up. If anything, SS is too eager to get the bad guys. She has the right motives, she just doesn't know boundaries_

Jason shrugged and closed the chat as Triumph came out of his room. It was ironic that Kid Win thought the vigilante without boundaries would stop at verbal abuse. Shadow Stalker joined Triumph as the elevator dinged. For the next hour, Jason did his homework at Standby Alert L2 - he was away from anyone who didn't know he was a Ward, so he wouldn't be missed, but he wasn't in costume. Then Clockblocker and Kid Win went out on patrol, Intrepid suited up and took over monitor duty, and Triumph returned. Shadow Stalker had apparently gone straight home.

Cautiously, Triumph approached Contract who was, as far as Intrepid knew, still working on her computer program. "Can we talk?"

"Sure." Based on the continued typing, Intrepid guessed that she hadn't even looked up. Her tone was more unfriendly than friendly, but it was calm so that was a good sign. An hour of silence seemed to have helped her mood.

"Please? I want to know what I've done to upset you." She kept typing for a moment, then Intrepid heard the laptop click shut. Intrepid focused on the feed he was seeing from cameras around Brockton Bay, but he couldn't help but listen too.

"Why do you think you've upset me?"

"Well, you're not really friendly with anyone besides Jason and I get it, he helped you with Behemoth. But you seem a little… colder… to me than to anyone else."

"I will try to correct that."

"I'm more interested in what I did to deserve it. Did someone say something?"

"You think I'd base my opinion on _rumor_?" She sounded offended, but a moment later she continued, like she was talking to herself. "Of course you do. You think that's what you saw today so of course you naturally project that back onto my relationship to you." Triumph didn't respond, but she didn't let the silence get awkward. "No one had to tell me, Triumph. You did it yourself."

"What do you mean?"

"You asked me about my trigger event."

There was a long, stretching silence. Intrepid found himself nearly holding his breath. He could see where asking about a trigger event might have upset Contract. He'd hardly want to talk about the worst day of his life, and he was being honest about his family and past. But it didn't seem like it was enough to sour an entire working relationship.

"I don't understand." Triumph finally admitted.

"There are three kinds of capes in the world, and you can tell often tell which are which by how they respond to the mere mention of the phrase 'trigger event'. There are capes like Intrepid and I, who wince on instinct as we recall the worst day of our lives. There are case 53s, who get uncomfortable or bitter because they can't remember, but they know it wasn't good and it probably wasn't natural. And then there is the third group. Which do you think you belong to?" She was being scathing, and Triumph answered her, angry and indignant.

"I triggered when I was 16. I found out I would never make the majors and I felt…"

Contract cut him off. "Save it for someone who cares."

Intrepid found himself facing forward without seeing anything. What was the third option? You were natural or you were a case 53. A second generation cape? But why would Contract hate all second generation capes on principle?

"Contract…" He said, coaxingly, obviously trying to control his temper.

"Look, nothing you say can change the basic facts. I don't trust you. And short of a miracle, I won't trust you. So don't hold your breath."

Triumph evidently decided to cut his losses and run, because he turned and trudged back to his room to change out of his cape. Contract opened her laptop and continued her typing. Intrepid spent the next two hours blankly thankful that the patrol didn't require his help in any capacity.

 **February 28, 2011**

On Monday morning, Fi was ten minutes late getting to the study classroom, and her facial expression kept him from asking where she'd been. She took three deep breathes, then ignored the PRT laptop in favor of her own personal device. She opened a file that looked like the same computer program from Friday program and spent the next two hours furiously typing. At lunch, Jason finally worked up the courage to speak.

"Where should I meet Taylor today?"

"We won't."

"What?" If there was one thing he didn't expect, it was for Fi to give up. She seemed more like the kind to cut off her nose to spite her face or die with her jaw still locked around a bone.

"We were ordered not to take any extraordinary measures to observe her. I was actually ordered to avoid her entirely. So we are going to obey."

"Why?"

"Because there is more than one way to skin a cat."

She suddenly stopped typing with a triumphant look. Jason leaned over. Her computer screen now showed a small sound-bar at the top of the screen, and a blank word document.

"What is this?"

"This is a program I wrote. It records and transcribes conversations." Sure enough, as they spoke the clock on the sound bar suddenly started counting and the curser on the word doc recorded their words.

"What are we going to do with this?"

"We aren't going to do anything. I am going to beta-test this by recording the incoming PRT switchboard overflow lines. Hear what people are saying while they listen to elevator music. PRT includes a disclaimer about recording, and I will turn all records over to their custody, so there won't be any legal trouble."

"How does that help us?"

"I guess we'll just have to hope we get lucky."

She hit a re-set button, and the document opened a "save as" dialog box. She named it "test one". Then she went to her command window, typed "execute: buttdial" and started the recording. There was a moment of ringing, then the automatic voice informed them that all lines were full, would they please hold, and all calls were monitored and recorded for guaranteed satisfaction and legal record. The word document caught it all. There was static for a little bit, then Jason realized he could hear someone talking in the background. Fi helpfully turned up the computer volume.

"No one ever believes a snitch."

"They decided you weren't worth the effort."

"Who would care about you?"

There were a lot of different female voices all talking over the top of each other.

"Even your mom didn't care about you." That came through loud and clear and dialog wrote itself in the command window. It said "89% - Emma Barnes".

"That's not true!" One girl yelled back and the other voices fell quiet for a moment. The command window wrote "93% - Taylor Hebert".

"Of course it's true. If it wasn't, someone would have let you out of that locker. But no one did. No one missed poor Taylor Hebert. So sad." This mocking tone was tagged "91% - Sophia Hess". Jason didn't need the program to tell him so.

There was the sound of laughter and then all the girls were talking all at once again. "Is she crying?" "What a baby!" "Does someone need her mama?" "What mother would love her?"

"Please move." It sounded like Taylor, but it must have been too garbled with the voices of the other girls for the program to recognize.

"No." That was Sophia again, and at her voice, the other girls stopped talking to listen. "You're a rat Taylor, a psychotic little tattletale. We play a couple harmless pranks, and you blow everything out of proportion. That's not very nice." Jason suddenly decided he'd had enough. He got up from the desk, and swept out of the classroom.

He didn't find the girls on the third floor. He didn't find them on the second.

He finally found Taylor sitting alone outside the school, curled up out of sight against a trashcan. Her backpack was missing, and she was crying. He tried to get her to talk, to go to the principle, to come inside. She just looked at him with big eyes and eventually whispered that she was going to go home. He wanted to tell her about the recording, but he knew it wasn't worth it. The girls hadn't admitted anything. It was only a bit of verbal abuse, and no matter what Fi said about it being legal he was pretty sure it wasn't. Eventually he went back to class.

* * *

He wasn't scheduled for Ward duty that afternoon, but he went in anyway. Contract wasn't around and Shadow Stalker was on the console. He made up a question to ask Kid Win, supposedly about the replacement tinker tech gun the Ward was planning for Intrepid, and after half an hour of listening to him ramble, Jason went home. All night, he expected to get called in. He didn't sleep.

* * *

On Tuesday he counted every minute until second period, and when he arrived in the classroom he found Fi already watching her lecture video for the day.

"What is going on?" He demanded, and she paused the video, pulled out the headphones, and stared at him in slight surprise like she wasn't sure what he meant.

"I don't understand."

"What are we doing to help Taylor?"

She sighed, and closed the laptop lid. "I wrote a program that causes Sophia's civilian phone to call the PRT tip line. I also wrote a virus so that all calls from that number are automatically moved to the back of the call waiting log every 60 seconds, virtually guaranteeing that it won't be answered. But it will be recorded. For good measure, I am also running a beta on my program on the call waiting lines. I got the paperwork to do so approved yesterday. I'm not a tinker, but I went through the same channels. Nobody is super happy, but I had several statements from Protectorate heroes who have mentioned in the past how useful it would be to be able to back up their reports with recordings. So it's tentatively approved, pending testing.

"I am going to keep causing Sophia to seemingly 'butt dial' the PRT at regular intervals. It will look like an over-sensitive screen, not too much trouble. I gave it a virus to randomly call a few other contacts too, and added the PRT switchboard as a contact under the name 'Peggy'. Once I overhear her say something sufficiently incriminating, I will engineer a situation to either have the recordings come to the attention of the PRT monitors, or I will 'randomly' include the appropriate transcripts in my beta testing, or I will have her phone confiscated and raise flags that way. I haven't decided yet."

"That's very elaborate."

"I was hoping to fly under the radar long enough to have the recordings in hand when this got taken to the adults. Unfortunately, Renick happened to be in the room when Sophia invited me to lunch with her. I casually declined and said I had someone else to eat with. Triumph got all team-leader and asked who. I decided to drop Taylor's name as a way to grease the wheels for later. Sophia was… scathing. Things spiraled out of control from there. It was not my finest hour."

"Why is this so important to you?"

"Out of all the corruption in the Protectorate and PRT, Sophia Hess might be the only one not connected to something that will get me assassinated. I have to do something. And I am secretly hoping that this will build me some good PR to cash in later. I know it won't work, but I really want it to."

"Does Triumph have anything to do with that corruption?"

She was quiet for a long time. Jason decided that she wasn't going to answer, and threw away his food wrappers, packing his stuff up to go to the next class.

"Yes. Triumph has benefited directly from the source of the corruption. I have no idea how much he might know, how involved he might be, or if there might be a chance that he's just ignorant. I can't know for sure. And I have to be careful."

"Who else on the team?"

"Possibly Aegis." The second in command.

"Why do you trust me? You never asked about my trigger event."

"You're good people, Jason. I can just tell." The bell rang, and he turned to go to class. As he trudged down three flights of stairs, past a cluster of skin heads glaring menacingly at the stoners across the hall, he had to try to hide the spring in his step. It felt great to have Fi's trust, even if he wasn't sure why he did.


	5. TGIF

**Chapter Five: TGIF**

On Wednesday, they listened to Sophia for an entire lunch period and heard nothing but girl gossip. After school on Thursday, when they were the only two in the Wards' base, they heard Emma talk to Shadow Stalker and call her Sophia, but it wasn't illegal for a Ward to reveal their own identity. On Friday, Jason was feeling the pressure. When they came back to school, there would be more students joining their private study and the opportunities for spotting trouble would severely decrease.

 **March 4, 2011**

It seemed that the school felt the tension too, because there was the first actual fight that Jason was aware of on campus. He'd barely sat down in his first class when he felt the band on his ankle buzz, and he raised his hand to be excused to go grab his book, which he'd not bothered to bring to class because it was a lecture. The teacher let him go anyway, and once out of the room he sprinted for the extra assigned locker which was empty except for his costume, then rushed to the nearest bathroom, and shrugged his cape on. He hid his clothes in a plastic bag in a trashcan in the hall. They would be safe until lunchtime.

His phone informed him the fight was on the top floor.

When Intrepid arrived at a classroom on the opposite side of the third floor from their study room, he found at least 20 members of the ABB and Empire inside. Four huge teens were in the center, all armed with knives, lunging at each other, while the others stood around and cheered. He stopped just inside the door out of reflex, to assess the situation, and immediately the spectators turned toward him. An couple of heartbeats later, the fighters had caught on, and Intrepid was still trying to figure out his next move. His throat closed up and he had no idea what he wanted to say in the first place. Where was the teacher who had seen the fight and tipped him off?

Another couple heartbeats had passed, and now a few spectators were drawing weapons too.

Heartbeats were becoming bad methods of keeping time; they kept speeding up.

"Halt."

Contract was directly behind him, was actually sliding to stand in front of him. Everyone in the room had frozen at her command. Completely frozen, unnaturally so, and Intrepid found himself really relieved she was here, but also really confused about her power set. Because seriously? She was starting to seem a little too badass to be real.

"Good morning everyone. Really glad you could make it here today." She crossed her arms over her chest, standing inches from the closest gang member, one of the ABB fighters who had his knife pointed directly at her throat due to their relative heights. Her voice was a little off, but he couldn't pin down how. "Here's how this is going to work. A couple weeks ago, I ate an Endbringer. It was a new experience, but very heavy on the gullet. Not something I'd recommend even to my worst enemy. So I decided to go back to being a little more old-school. In fact, I literally decided to come to school. And you are preventing me from learning. I really don't appreciate that.

"Now, I have just frozen you all for the rest of the day. We can wait for the police, whom I've already called, and you can all be arrested for attacking a Ward with the intent to murder. Or, we can go with door number too. You see, my name is Contract. And that is what I do; I make contracts. So you are going to make contracts with me. I am going to give you your freedom, release you from the all-day freezing and arrest that is otherwise in your future, if and only if you all agree, individually, never to fight on this campus again. Once you agree, you are free to go, much as I hate to say it. You'll continue to be free until you break the contract. At which point you freeze again, this time for 24 hours. Any takers? Anyone want their freedom today?"

Almost immediately, spectators started unfreezing. A few stumbled, caught off guard by the sudden return of movement. They slowly wove their way out past their still-frozen friends. Once they saw that it worked, a lot of other spectators followed, even some of those that had drawn weapons. As the first of these passed her, Contract held out her hand and the gangbanger dropped the switchblade onto her palm, looking like a little kid who'd broken a window. Every other armed spectator followed suit. It was incredibly eerie.

Soon she was faced with 6 gang members, the fighters and two others who might have been the guys in charge. She sighed, at looked toward the fighters.

"Don't be idiots. You're muscle. You can and will be replaced. You'll be moved to other schools and campuses where you can be useful to your gangs. Or you can spend 25 to life in prison for endangering the princess of the world. I saved millions of lives in New York. I will save millions more in the future. I can guarantee you, you will rot in prison. Go. I'll have a word with your leaders, and then they'll join you."

There was a long pause, and Intrepid thought Contract had failed to persuade them. Then, nearly all at once, they stumbled forward and handed her their weapons. She handed several to Intrepid, unable to hold them all.

"You two. Mr. and Mr. Ring Leader. Here's the deal. I won't interfere in your recruitment, or your verbal posturing, or whatever. But I will interfere in your fights. Every, single, one. So you can stand here, be arrested, go to prison, serve your gang, and be easily replaced by your bosses with whoever you biggest rival currently is, or you can accept my truce and go free. No fighting on campus, that's all I ask." She took a breath. "Obviously if one of you agrees and the other doesn't, you're at a disadvantage. So I'm going to release just your neck muscles. You want to cooperate, look each other in the eyes. You want to be idiots, keep glaring at me." Not surprisingly, they both turned their heads, then were released.

"Excellent. On your way." She stepped out of the way, and they walked past grudgingly.

Intrepid was floored. He found himself touching down lightly, which meant he'd been accidently hovering again. Once the gang members were gone, he forced himself to find his voice. "Is that really how your power works?"

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and typed for a bit, then showed him the screen.

 _Sort of. I do make deals, but only rarely with other people. As part of the "cost" to get them to freeze, everything I say out loud must be to some degree false, and everything I communicate through written language must be to some degree true. We need to go to Blackwell and turn in a list of participants and put these weapons in her custody to give to the police. There may crimes out there related to these blades._

"How long will this last?"

 _I'm not certain. It's more art than science. Highly likely it will be more than a week. Also, I'm deaf, so face me when you talk. I'm going to avoid talking when possible for the foreseeable future._

Intrepid followed her quietly down to Blackwell's office on the ground floor, thankful the school wase still in first period and no students were in the halls. As they approached, he tapped Contract's shoulder to turn her around.

"What should I say happened?"

She smiled at him and pulled out her phone again.

 _Tell the truth. You should tell them what I said about the cost too. I know I'm putting you in a tough position, pulling your loyalties in two or more directions between myself and the Wards and what you believe is right. I appreciate that you feel torn enough to ask. I knew the nature of my ability would come out eventually. I was just enjoying a little peace while I could. I'm sort of glad you get the credit for the discovery._

"Peace?"

 _I can't defeat another Endbringer. There are some sacrifices you can only make once, and right now I have nothing of sufficient magnitude to give up. The Protectorate will realize this soon. And then they'll start trying to find someone who has enough to lose. I don't want to be a part of that process._

"What did you pay?" As soon as he asked, he knew it was the wrong thing to do. Her face shut down and that dangerous-ness suddenly pinged on his mental radar and he felt himself flinching. "Sorry, sorry. That was stupid." Surprisingly, this seemed to calm her down. She regarded him for what felt like a half a minute, but was probably less.

 _You are a guy. You can't help it._

She bit her lip, then wrote another sentence.

 _There is a reason I'm not contacting my family._

He didn't know what to say to that.

* * *

The de-briefing took longer than the encounter itself. They went over it with Blackwell in person, then with the officer who showed up, then wrote it out for the police, then filled out the computer paperwork for the PRT. Intrepid took a moment to be thankful that Contract was currently dishonest out loud (and almost completely silent) and honest on paper. Paperwork might have been difficult otherwise.

By the time he thought he might be able to go to lunch before the afternoon classes, they instead got texts calling them to PRT HQ. There they walked into a conference room and were introduced (unnecessarily) to Piggot, Renick, Triumph, Armsmaster, and Legend. PRT Director Costa-Brown and Dragon were both attending by computer conference-call. A very unattractive, balding older man was also present and introduced himself only as "Contract's translator."

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence before Contract suddenly started moving her hands. The translator seemed a bit bewildered as he spoke for her, but it seemed like he kept up alright.

"Let's not be falsely polite. You want me to explain what I did today and in New York City. Fine. Since I've already explained to Intrepid, I might as well tell you directly. My name is very literal. I write contracts with the world. I trade my energy, my body, my possessions, anything I have and do not wish to lose, I can trade it for anything I want. I can trade a day of being able to talk for a few minutes of invincibility. I can trade 24 hours of refusing to communicate in any way in order to heal a teammate who is hurt, but not critically. It depends on how much I want the thing I am asking for, and how much I am pained by what I am giving up."

Intrepid wondered if signing counted as speaking. It certainly wasn't written communication. A loop-hole, maybe? Allowing her to as honest or dishonest as she wished?

"Today I gave up certain abilities for at least a week but not more than two weeks. I am deaf. That is not the whole story. I won't tell you the whole price for today. I believe that is my right." He realized suddenly that they hadn't told anyone about the truth and lies. Getting adults to believe she was deaf had been hard enough. He also realized that his testimony was no longer necessary, so he kept from fidgeting so that hopefully he would be overlooked and not dismissed.

"I also won't tell you what price I paid in New York. I can't talk about it. Not yet. What matters is that the price I paid to erase Behemoth is not one I can pay again. Like your virginity, some things can only be given up once." The old man blushed when he said virginity. It was unnerving, to watch her determined facial expressions match his halting words. Intrepid could imagine the fire with which Fi would say these things. It was even obvious in her gestures, which were crisp and confident. But the man broke her phrasing awkwardly, and his cadence was at least as bad as Contract's had been, the first day he met her.

"Now, are there any questions?"

There was a sort of stunned silence while they all processed. Intrepid wondered if they could guess the magnitude of the cost that she'd paid. He was still having trouble understanding it.

Finally, Dragon broke the silence. "What would it take to erase another Endbringer? Could other people pay the cost instead?"

Contract's hands were moving before her translator's had fallen still. Intrepid noticed that this time she was going slower, emphasizing her motions even more. It was possible to guess what some of the motions meant, now that the translator was in sync with her. "I cannot be sure. I didn't know that I could defeat Behemoth until I saw him and gaged the cost of stopping a single blow. If the others are like him, it might be possible. If they are stronger, I'm not sure my contracts can beat them. Moreover, you cannot ask others to pay this price. It would be evil."

The Director Costa-Brown saw the loop-hole right away. "But it might be possible."

"I would consider it morally wrong, evil." The translator seemed uncomfortable disagreeing with the other adults. Intrepid wondered if he was a PRT employee or a local temporary translator from a disabilities service.

Legend spoke up next. "Is there anything we can do to help you? You're obviously bearing a lot of weight, just given your encounter today. Can we mitigate anything? Either from today's contract or from Behemoth's?"

Contract watched Legend as he spoke, ignoring her translator completely. Intrepid wondered if reading lips let her understand how gentle his voice had been. Legend was seeking peace, even if it wasn't an overt apology. This time, she signed very slowly.

"Thank you very much for noticing. For offering. You can help by trying to understand. I cannot tell you about my family, my past, my…" the translator paused when she didn't, and Contract glanced at him contemptuously and said "trigger event" out loud in her own voice. She turned back to Legend, and went back to signing. "I will try to work with the heroes to discover how I can destroy the next Endbringer. But right now I am grieving. I can never go back to the life I once had. Please try to understand that."

The whole room was quiet for a minute after that. Then Dragon suggested that, since there were months until the next Endbringer attack was expected, Contract be allowed to grieve for a while. At least until her hearing came back and she could speak for herself. Armsmaster agreed quickly, more quickly than Intrepid had expected given his usual stand-offish-ness. Maybe he had underestimated the Protectorate leader. Renick stood up, and Legend came around the table to Contract.

"If you need anything, please call me. I want to help you." It was incredibly sincere, and yet for a moment, as she shook his offered hand, Contract looked like she was sucking on a lemon. The expression disappeared in an instant, and Legend gave no sign of noticing, but Intrepid catalogued it. He had a sudden, horrible suspicion that Legend might be a particular kind of cape.

"I will call you if I need anything." She said aloud, her cadence nearly unnoticeable, but now that Intrepid knew what he was listening for, he was pretty sure he'd be able to tell her deaf voice and normal voice apart. Legend smiled at her, then followed Piggot out of the room. In a moment, it was just Contract, the translator, Intrepid, Triumph, and Renick still there.

Renick started. "The PRT will provide a translator until this deafness passes. Afterward, however, we would like to discuss other possible alternatives that won't affect your civilian life."

"I appreciate your concern." Contract said, again speaking out loud. "But I have put extensive time into generating alternatives and I vastly prefer deafness. I am also quite capable of coping with the consequences of my contracts. A translator, while convenient, is not necessary. I will speak with the teachers, I'm sure they won't mind providing me with notes."

It was amazing to realize that none of that could be completely true, and yet it all seemed correct. Renick was obviously made uncomfortable by her speech, but eventually just said, "I expect we'll talk more once you can hear." and left the four of them standing there. Contract turned to her translator, had a short conversation in sign, and then the translator left, looking relieved.

Contract waited for Triumph to speak, so Intrepid decided he would too. After a deep breath that hinted at nervousness, he finally began. "You two did a good job today. I don't know if anyone told you that. When I heard you'd dealt with over 20 gang members already engaged in a full fight with no additional blood, I was proud to be your team leader." The praise felt hollow. Intrepid hadn't done anything, and a quick glance at Contract showed that she probably cared more about the best method to fry an egg than she did about what Triumph was saying. She didn't seem upset, but she was sort of blank.

After receiving no response, he hurried on. "Contract, I didn't realize what you were dealing with. And I know my questions probably made it harder. I'm sorry. Please, in the future, tell me if I can do anything to help. We are a team. I know you're new, and you don't really know us yet, and we've had a few rough patches. But please, let us support you."

She was quiet for a long time, but breathing just a little heavier, and she kept taking in a deep breath like she was about to start. Triumph waited her out.

"I'm not good at trusting." She said, then paused. He let her think. "If you're really sincere, then I forgive you. You didn't know that you were making it harder for me. We can start over." She held out her hand and he shook it, beaming. She smiled back, and it looked real from where Intrepid was standing. "Intrepid and I will catch up in one minute." He nodded and took a step away, bowing out gracefully. "Actually, there is one thing that I really, really, appreciate. I need Intrepid around, and you letting us stick together keeps me from feeling cornered."

Triumph grinned again, nodded to both of them, and left them alone with a parting shot, "Who am I to break up the team that erased Behemoth?"

Intrepid waved at Triumph, and as soon as the leader was round the corner, out of sight, he turned back to Contract. She was already typing in her phone. She typed for a long time.

 _The key to a contract is the exact working. I cannot speak a complete truth out loud. I cannot communicate a complete lie by the written word. When I say, "we will be along in a minute" the chances of us following exactly 60 seconds behind is nearly zero. When I tell him that being with you makes me not feel cornered it's not completely true because even with you in the room I still feel ganged up on and cornered, just not as badly. The key to speaking for the next week is that I will use a lot of figurative language, which is not actually true, and make a lot of absolute statements, which are only partially true, and I will ask rhetorical questions, which are neither true nor false. And I will try to type in front of Armsmaster, who is working on a lie detector. I can communicate at least a little. In the same way, not everything I write is what is seems to be. Sign language is of course completely free game._

It made him feel a little better about what he'd heard, but not perfect. He wished he had a transcript of everything she'd said to the gang and to the heroes just now. Intrepid knew he was being paranoid, because people lied and told the truth every single day and he never invested much effort into figuring out which was which. But somehow knowing that she was limited in these ways was screwing with him. He tried to shake it off.

"I guess I have to at least thank you for getting me invited to more interesting meetings in the future." She smiled, then showed him her phone again.

 _Out of everyone I know or suspect to be in this building right now, I trust you the most. Out of everyone I know or suspect to be in this building right now, I like you the most._

Intrepid stared at the text for a long time, before he finally looked up. There didn't seem to be any loopholes in that statement. "Thank you."

It occurred to him, much, much later, that he had nothing but her own word that she was limited as to lies and truth and in which circumstances. But even as he thought it, he didn't believe that she had played him. There was something about Fi that he liked, and even trusted. He wasn't sure why, but there was.


	6. Dragon's Eye View

**Chapter Six: Dragon's Eye View**

 **March 4, 2011**

Dragon liked Friday nights. They were busy, giving her lots of new data to look at and sort through. By Rebecca's request, she was devoting significant resources to the data surrounding Contract. She was to do her own analysis, and then compile sample videos to be given to Company so that he could advise Rebecca on the best way to help her integrate into the Wards and later, the Protectorate.

Unfortunately, there wasn't much to work with. Although Contract had spent just under two weeks living in the Ward bases in New York and Brockton Bay, constantly under surveillance, she had been distant from nearly everyone. She was especially hostile to the Triumvirate, although slightly less so to the charismatic Legend, and was either distant or cold to nearly everyone else. Dragon nearly profiled her as disliking authority, especially after her reaction to Triumph and Costa-Brown, but she was friendly with Weld, Armsmaster and Miss Militia and was respectful of the PRT Directors of each city, although she wasn't particularly helpful.

Then Intrepid arrived in Brockton Bay, and Contract offered up the first personal detail they knew: the nickname Fi. Like Intrepid would later tell Triumph, and Triumph would report to Renick, Dragon didn't believe it was derived from the full name "Fiona". A census search gave the possibilities of Felicity, Phoebe, and Sophie. Dragon marked the last name, which had the nickname derived from the end, as most probable due to the ironic smile Contract showed in the video.

There was no video available of Contract at Winslow High, but the 'incident' from last Friday, immediately after school hours was available in full. All participants had been asked to fill out reports except for Contract and Intrepid, because Triumph judged that both were both too new to the Brockton Bay system to understand that everything was routinely documented. He felt it would cause them to feel more uncomfortable and delay their ability to settle in.

As she watched, Dragon felt sympathy for Contract. It was obvious that she hadn't mean to start an argument with Shadow Stalker. She likely didn't know that allegations such as the ones she was repeating could mean the end of a hero career for her teammate, she was simply concerned over the situation. Dragon made a note for herself to look into the issue with Taylor Hebert and give a few anonymous tips to the police. If the real culprits were caught, the two girls could put the rumors to rest and learn to trust each other.

For the next week, Contract kept her head down as she had promised Triumph she would. She submitted a program she called "He said, she said" to be reviewed by the PRT board. It was now nearing the end of the beta-testing stage, and Dragon found herself impressed with it. She wondered if it was something Contract had created in the four weeks since Behemoth, or if she had created it before and simply re-typed it from memory. Either way, it was impressive work. She added a notation to Company's dossier, encouraging him to have the program approved and implemented in Brockton Bay so that Contract could feel she was contributing.

Which brought Dragon to the events of earlier that day. Contract and Intrepid marched into Blackwell's office with a list of 23 gang members who had been participating in or watching a knife fight. Contract had used her powers to disperse the fight, and for the first time she also offered an explanation of her powers.

If Dragon knew anything, it was that capes were almost never truthful about their powers. For one, powers had tricks and short cuts that grew more powerful the more they were used, so that what was true today was understatement tomorrow. For another, being underestimated was an enormous advantage that very few people, hero or villain, were willing to give up entirely. It seemed difficult to imagine that anyone could underestimate a teenager who had erased an Endbringer, but as Dragon reviewed the video of her de-briefing, she saw it happening.

By using a translator that she (probably) didn't need, Contract had made herself seem harmless. She'd told them that she'd played her one big card, and that that was the end of the line. They had all believed her. Dragon ran Armsmaster's most recent lie detector over the video, but it read Contract as "Likely lying due to extreme fidgeting" which Dragon realized was actually interference from the ASL. That would have to be accounted for. She sent a quick email to Colin, though he probably already knew about it.

It wasn't that Dragon didn't believe Contract. She seemed like a good kid and honestly, Dragon liked her. It was just that a power that acted on the scale they knew she was capable of was inherently dangerous. And it was obvious that Contract didn't trust them. Not yet anyway, except for Intrepid. She made a note to herself to return to that line of thought.

She knew it would be a top priority to find another "sacrifice" for the next Endbringer. Contract had indicated that she had given up her family, her whole life, to defeat Behemoth. Would an actual loss of life be more or less powerful? Would it matter if the sacrifices were cape or normal? Contract obviously hated the PRT and yet she was cooperating with them, or at least not actively defying them. Was that part of her cost? She had spent two weeks after the fight with Behemoth deaf, though she had seemed normal and well-adjusted to the disability. What had she gained for that time? What other prices might she still be carrying? Without knowing who Contract had been before the fight, it was nearly impossible to guess how she had changed.

Dragon had also run into roadblocks when she attempted to track Contract's past. It was like she had simply appeared on the battle field. No movers remembered bringing her to the site, no team claimed her, and there was no surveillance video available that showed her entering the building where she was found. She had introduced herself to the wristband as "Contract, I'll be able to shield stationary targets." She had certainly shielded her building during the fight: although it had taken cosmetic damage it had remained stable after taking a direct.

And then she had destroyed Behemoth.

Retracing these older searches was providing no new epiphanies, so Dragon backtracked to her idea about Intrepid, and pulled all the video of the two of them together. She added it to Company's dossier, then decided to watch it again herself. Intrepid was open and friendly. He asked questions, but he didn't push. He accepted Contracts boundaries. He stayed near her within each room, although he respected her personal space to a radius of about 3 feet. She added a final note to Company about keeping the two of them together to foster good will, then sent the dossier.

Then she went back to last night's video. Contract and Intrepid were alone in the Wards' base, both in civilian dress, leaned over a computer which was facing away from the cameras. They seemed to spend most of the time listening and watching the computer screen, which made Dragon suspect a movie, but at one point they did speak.

"So Emma knows."

"Obviously. But that's not inherently illegal, and it doesn't help Taylor."

"I saw her on the bus home after 6th period, so that's another class she skipped. She was covered in mud."

"We'll help her."

"I hate that we put hope in front of her and now I can't even ask her how she's doing."

"You heard Renick." Based on Contract's body posture, she was extremely irritated over the issue, and was not reminding Intrepid about the order because she wanted to, but because it was upsetting to them both.

"I know. I know. Why isn't _Sophia_ listening?"

"I'm sure if either of us tell him that Sophia was talking to Taylor she'd tell him that she was just keeping an eye on the potentially psychotic threat. God, I can't believe he gave her that excuse. It just makes me so…" Contract reached out and shut the laptop lid hard, using the physical motion to demonstrate her frustration. "You should go home, Jason. We won't find anything else today."

"See you at school?"

"Until tomorrow."

Dragon shut the video and turned her attention to the issue of Taylor Hebert. It was obviously an issue in which Intrepid and Contract were united, and against Shadow Stalker. The situation was poisonous, and allowing it to fester couldn't be good. First, she found the hospital record for Taylor's visit in early January. There was sufficient harm done to justify charges of assault and battery, reckless endangerment, deprivation of liberty, emotional battery, and a few counts of conspiracy if she could find who was responsible. Then she turned to the police report. There was an initial interview when Taylor had been admitted, but the girl was incoherent. She was rambling about her mother, the stars, and a few names. The officer had noted the repeated names of Emma, Sophia, and Madison. Taylor's father had identified Emma Barnes as Taylor's best friend, so it was unclear if the other names were friends or enemies. A week later, when Taylor was released from the hospital, the school paid the bill and Taylor and Danny Hebert formally dropped all charges.

Dragon put a few more programs on hold to free up a bit more processing power. Something about this didn't seem right, and she wanted to focus to find out exactly what it was. She started with what she knew of Taylor, trying to build a picture of the victim. Taylor's grades had declined sharply in high school, and were inconsistent in classes. She had "A" level papers and projects one day, and then had entire weeks when she turned in no work, or work so trashed it was illegible. Taylor had bought each class text book at least twice. She had used nearly 20 different email accounts issued by the school over the course of her 18 months in Winslow. Some accounts were wiped and re-assigned to other students, but others were still available. 7 accounts had been completely flooded with hate mail from throw-away accounts.

Dragon diverted processing power away from studying traffic patterns in New York to measure differences after Contract's remodel and instead sent that part of herself chasing down the one-use accounts to try to find concrete names.

Dragon turned her attention to Emma Barnes, daughter of Alan Barnes. Emma had been rescued by Shadow Stalker two summers ago, and her father had represented Shadow Stalker at her probation hearing. Social media showed Emma Barnes and Sophia Hess regularly attended the same events, and Emma had several posts indicating she had "run into" Shadow Stalker at one time or another. Social media also turned up a mutual friend, Madison Clements, who was often around but who had actually missed the first day back to school after the winter break. She could not have participated in the end-stages of the prank on Taylor Hebert.

Dragon knew that it was possible that Emma, Sophia, Madison, and Taylor were friends. Taylor could have been calling out for her friends. Danny Hebert had identified Emma Barnes as "nearly a sister" to his daughter. This even seemed to be the obvious explanation. Except that Sophia had not wanted Contract to eat lunch with Taylor Hebert. She had started an incident with a teammate in front of her social worker over it.

Dragon diverted the main body of her attention to the mess of files she had access to and searched everything tagged with "Brockton Bay" for the words "Taylor" and "Hebert" used in the same file, but not necessarily directly together. She found news articles, an anti-bullying statement, and several press releases about the Dockworkers' Union. She added the parameter "Sophia" and limited the search to files generated after January 1.

The top result was a beta-file from "He said, she said" created Friday, around lunch time, while Contract and Intrepid had been talking to the PRT. Dragon opened the transcript. The speakers didn't seem to know that they had called a hotline. Instead, it was like being a spectator to a conversation with an unclear beginning.

 _"I just want to use the restroom." - Female 1_

 _"Use a different one, rat. You're not welcome here." - Female 2_

 _"Please, just let me through." - Female 1_

 _"Not gonna happen, Taylor. Why don't you use the ones next door? I'm sure no one will notice the difference." - Female 3_

 _[Laughter] [Footsteps]_

 _"Of course, you could always just use your locker instead." - Female 4_

 _[Footsteps stop]_

 _"Why do you do it? Why did you lock me in there? Why did you choose me? How can you be so, so…" - Female 1_

 _"So strong? Because we are, Hebert. We are strong, and you are weak. That's why we put you in that locker, and that's why you couldn't get out of it. You're worthless, and we are going to keep proving it to you over and over until you get it." - Female 2_

 _[Footsteps]_

 _"JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!" - Female 1_

 _"Who are you to tell me what to do?" - Female 2_

 _[Many running footsteps]_

 _[Slam] [Cry of pain] [Running footsteps stop]_

 _"You can't run from a track star, idiot." - Female 2_

 _[Slam] [Muffled]_

 _[More footsteps approach and stop]_

 _"An idiot like you doesn't need textbooks." - Female 2_

 _[School Buzzer]_

 _[Footsteps]_

 _[Multiple Indistinct Voices]_

 _"Sophia…phone… butt dial." - noise prevents match_

 _"Stupid Peg…" - noise prevents match_

 _[end of call]_

From the context, Female 1 was certainly Taylor Hebert. Females 2, 3, and 4 could be Sophia, Emma, and Madison, but there was no clear evidence, beside the brief mention of "Sophia" near the garbled end of the recording. Female 2 did claim to be a track star, which Sophia was, but it wasn't conclusive. Still, Dragon tracked the number, which turned out to be pre-paid. The same number seemed to be making semi-regular calls to the PRT report line. Dragon opened the rest of the files, scanned through them quickly, then flagged them and dropped them on Piggot's desk, along with video from the Wards' base a week previously and the hospital records. As a courtesy, she copied Colin and Renick on the information.

Satisfied that justice would be handled locally, Dragon was nonetheless aware that she had been played. She didn't believe for a moment that Contract's program accidentally recorded incriminating evidence from Shadow Stalker's own private, prepaid line. She spent an hour digging into the PRT hotline, Sophia's phone, and the coding of "He said, she said". What she found was that Sophia's phone had made a number of odd calls at odd times, apparently due to high screen sensitivity. When the PRT hotline received calls which were mostly static, these calls were automatically sorted to the back of the answering list. "He said, she said" had trolled these garbled conversations to test the limits of the coding. It all appeared logical, in order, and unrelated.

Dragon was still pretty sure she'd been set up, but refocused her attention on trying to predict the next Endbringer. Contract could be someone else's problem for a few days.

* * *

At 2:13:43 on Saturday morning, Dragon got an email from Company, which he had marked 'RE: Urgent, Time Sensitive, Contract situation'. She diverted the part of her attention that was successfully back-tracking one-use email address sent to Taylor Hebert to investigate this email instead.

 _To: Dragon_

 _From: Company_

 _RE: Urgent, Time Sensitive, Contract situation_

 _Dragon,_

 _Contract is setting firm boundaries around herself as to who she will and will not trust. Most capes seem to automatically fall into the 'not trust' category, likely because she sees them as belonging to the 'third class' of cape which she did not specify to Triumph. Until we can pin exactly what does and does not cause this prejudice, we must capitalize on the capes who have been labeled trustworthy or potentially trustworthy. This includes yourself, Weld, Miss Militia, and Armsmaster. Her body language with her teammates is unclear, with the obvious exception of Intrepid. Please make contact with her soon and continue this contact regularly. It doesn't matter what you say, so long as you establish a connection. I have already sent this preliminary report to Costa-Brown, who is dismayed but forwarding orders appropriately. More to follow soon._

 _Company_

Dragon turned her main attention away from the prediction software and focused on the email. By all accounts, Contract ought to be asleep at the moment. But from the way it was written, Company seemed to expect that some immediate action was required. He'd given enough background to let her make an informed decision, but clearly he believed something needed to be done tonight. After thinking over what she'd seen between Contract and Intrepid, and Company's note that the content was less important than the contact, Dragon decided on her strategy.

She opened a chat program which would target Contract's computer. It was the same one most Ward teams used in place of text messaging, since the messages weren't saved afterwards. She hesitated over her username, then decided to follow the Ward tradition of using a variation on her cape name which exaggerated its "coolness".

 _WingedDeath: Impressive work._

The comment was purposefully ambiguous, so that Contract would be able to talk about anything she wanted to. Dragon didn't expect an immediate answer, and instead set about tapping on the firewalls around the computer, curious at the unfamiliar programming. Contract answered less than a minute later.

 _Law-and-Order: sorry for delay. AFK. Would you quick poking my security? It's sorta rude._

 _Law-and-Order: Oh, Hi Dragon, it's you. I wondered how long before you found it all._

 _WingedDeath: What did I find?_

 _Law-and-Order: um… I didn't cover my tracks all that well._

There was a pause while the chat box showed Law-and-Order was temporarily off-line. Dragon watched a connection leave Contract's computer and hack into Sophia's phone, then immediately withdraw.

 _Law-and-Order: that's hilarious. Sorry. Clean-up job was totally not me. Looks like my coding had a little help from an old friend._

 _WingedDeath: I thought you cut your friends off?_

 _Law-and-Order: I cut off contact with them, but it's not like the PRT is really hiding me anymore. Ash wouldn't have needed more than a few hints to find me, track my keystrokes, get the big picture, and upgrade my coding to hide my tracks._

 _WingedDeath: I have never heard of any tinker named "Ash"._

 _Law-and-Order: he's not a cape, but I trust him with my life. Taught me everything I know about computers, weed, and D &D._

 _WingedDeath: You play?_

 _Law-and-Order: when I can find time, usually when I'm recovering from a broken leg. Do you?_

 _WingedDeath: Yes. When I can find a game. I find many online-based games to be unreliable, and I prefer text-based games to graphics._

 _Law-and-Order: [laughter] I bet. I do too._

 _WingedDeath: why [laughter] not lol?_

 _Law-and-Order: I'm currently using He said she said to transcribe while I walk around._

 _WingedDeath: You're not tired?_

 _Law-and-Order: Can't sleep._

 _WingedDeath: Can I ask a question?_

 _Law-and-Order: can't promise I'll answer. Shoot._

 _WingedDeath: why do you care about Hebert?_

 _Law-and-Order: I saw her on the news when I was researching my new home. She reminds me of someone I once knew. No one was willing to help her. She was fighting this enormous battle against something she didn't even know was out there, but she just kept getting up. It was so horrible, she broke under the pressure. Then she picked up the pieces, remade herself, and kept fighting. Taylor was fighting the whole PRT without even realizing it. Blackwell did nothing because Sophia was a Ward, and I don't know why the PRT didn't handle it but they didn't. Taylor has been struggling against betrayal and indifference for 18 months. That's long enough._

 _WingedDeath: I think the PRT wanted to give Sophia a chance._

 _Law-and-Order: sure. I get it. Second chances, mercy, grace, I hear you. But not at the cost of innocent victims. Sophia didn't want to be reformed. She was strong-armed into accepting certain limitations and she resented them. She lashed out at Taylor. I couldn't be a part of that, and I knew I'd never trust Sophia in the field._

 _WingedDeath: Do you think trust is important in a team?_

 _Law-and-Order: Don't analyze me. I'm perfectly capable of trust. It's the Protectorate, the PRT, that can't carry that torch._

 _WingedDeath: I'm just trying to understand. You gave up everything, for capes that you seem to hate._

 _Law-and-Order: I gave up everything because it was the right thing to do. I had the ability to save all of Behemoth's future victims, so I did. Saving capes was a tiny, tiny part of that._

 _WingedDeath: well, we appreciate it anyway._

 _Law-and-Order: [muffled. Closest matches: laughter, crying]_

 _Law-and-Order: Sorry about that. Typing now._

 _WingedDeath: You don't have to be sorry. I know I asked some tough questions._

 _Law-and-Order: Yeah. I guess. I don't mind. I know I have to answer this stuff eventually. It's just… it's still really raw. It's hard, staying on the wagon._

 _WingedDeath: I'm not sure I follow._

 _Law-and-Order: The thing is… I didn't just sacrifice my family. I_ _am sacrificing_ _them. The decisions I made, I have to keep making them. If I ever change my mind, Behemoth comes back. I have to stay away from my friends, start my new life, submit to the Protectorate, wake up every morning in this gang-ridden city and live my life. I knew it would be hard. I mean, that's the whole point of a sacrifice, but… it's hard to grieve for something when it's right within your reach, and you can smell it but you aren't allowed to touch it._

 _Law-and-Order: Ash can follow me, and buff my code and cover my tracks and tell the others I'm still alive, but I can't steal his phone and hard-wire it to reboot every sixty seconds to drive him around the bend. I…_

 _Law-and-Order: It's worse than I thought it would be._

Dragon tried to think of anything to say to that, but after a short pause, Contract sent another message.

 _Law-and-Order: I'm really glad you poked me, actually. I was just pacing this room, forcing myself to stay, to go to bed, to not bolt. Having to remember the people I saved… the people I am saving… you helped save them. You're getting me through tonight._

 _WingedDeath: I'm here for you, Fi. Any hour of any day or night. Especially the night, when you're alone. I may not understand everything, but I understand loneliness._

 _Law-and-Order: Thanks. Can you just talk for a while? Tell me about your most recent D &D. Tell me anything._

For two hours, Dragon told Contract about a dungeon crawl she'd done almost a year before. Contract replied or asked questions only occasionally, but Dragon didn't mind. If she could help this young hero, she would. Even just by talking. She could have turned her main attention elsewhere, but she somehow felt that Contract deserved a fuller presence than that. Later, she would analyze the transcript and copy it to Company so that he could know how close of a call they had had tonight and incorporate this information into his briefing. Later, she would strongly recommend to everyone in Contract's chain of command that the teen not be pushed or stressed, and that she be watched for signs of suicide. As the dawn was starting to come up, Dragon found it impossible to sign off without asking the question that had plagued her.

 _WingedDeath: What will happen when you die?_

 _Law-and-Order: Don't worry. When I said that he was gone completely, permanently, I meant it. He's never coming back._

Dragon was nearly certain she was being truthful, but somehow that unease didn't leave her, even as she closed the chat box, saving the text elsewhere for later.


	7. Building Bridges

**Chapter Seven: Building Bridges**

 **March 5, 2011**

On Saturday morning, Rory woke up, showered, grabbed his phone, and went down to breakfast. He chose a banana, because the oranges were starting to look a little questionable, and sat down at the table to read his email while he ate. Sitting at the top of his list, time stamped 6:14 AM, was a message marked with the "extremely urgent" flag.

 _To: Triumph_

 _From: Company_

 _RE: URGENT situation with Contract, immediate action required_

 _Triumph,_

 _The situation with Contract is worse than previously feared. Last night, in a conversation with Dragon, she revealed that she is capable of releasing Behemoth at any time. Several thinkers independently confirmed that she was speaking the truth as she believed it at the time. She stated that containing Behemoth requires active, constant persistence and sacrifice. She claimed that if Dragon had not spoken with her last night, she may have decided to release him because sacrificing her family is more difficult than she expected._

 _It is imperative that Contract connect with her peers and teammates. I believe that she may be older than she previously claimed, and that this age gap may be contributing to her difficulties in settling in. However, at this time, the decision has been made to leave her in her current assignment. You must connect with her and find a way to help her become more comfortable with her team. You must provide her with a support system. I am sending similar briefings to Armsmaster and others. Based on video data, it appears that she is currently most comfortable with Intrepid, and is using this to isolate herself from others. Other than Intrepid, the list of capes whom she appears to feel comfortable with is limited to Miss Militia, Armsmaster, Dragon, and Weld. Discussions are in the works to possibly transfer Weld to Brockton Bay._

 _Until that time, you need to make her feel more comfortable in Brockton Bay. Pair her with Clockblocker, Kid Win, and Vista as she seems more open to these three than to others. Keep her separated from Shadow Stalker. Try to bridge the gap which has developed between the two of you. If you can do this successfully, we will be leaving you as Ward team leader indefinitely to avoid a re-structuring that could upset the precarious balance. If you are unsuccessful, you will be graduated to the Protectorate on Monday._

 _Finally, we are aware that the last time you tried to reach out to her, she responded with an accusation about a "third class" of cape, which she believes includes you. There are several competing theories about this. Please send any information or suspicions you may have to us immediately. Defining this barrier is the key to working around it, and without more information we are blind._

 _I admit that I am at something of a loss. My power typically allows me to prescribe exactly what must be done, and by who, in order to resolve an interpersonal issue. I am accustomed to issuing direct and specific orders. With Contract, this has proven nearly impossible. Instead, I am only able to deduce what I must do. I can discover what information to send, and to whom, but I cannot tell you what to do with it. I suppose you must act as you see fit._

 _Best of luck,_

 _Company_

Rory read the email twice, his banana settling heavy in his stomach. If this information was correct, they had been one stroke of luck away from regaining an Endbringer, and it sounded like the PRT was now relying on him to keep Contract from releasing the monster. He wasn't sure what to do. It seemed to him like everything he had done to reach out to her had been unsuccessful. He'd had limited progress on Friday, but it was hardly enough to let him break through the walls she'd erected.

Still, he had to try something. Idly, he wondered why Company hadn't woken him with a phone call, instead of sending an "urgent" email that he would read three hours later. There was no real possible explanation except "thinker bullshit" which was probably true, but not exactly helpful. Rory had no idea where to start responding to this particular piece of bullshit, but he absently pulled up the program that let him track the Wards' PRT phones. It was a privilege he had argued for when he became team leader and he found it very useful, since it allowed him to put his team on alert based on their exact location, rather than where they were supposed to be.

Immediately, he noticed that Contract was not at her foster residence, as he had expected. Instead, she was in the area known as the Market. There were no other Ward phones near her. After a minute of warring with himself, Rory decided to go see her in person, casually, outside of the realm of the PRT, and introduce her to his civilian self. Maybe it would help him build on yesterday's progress.

* * *

Even with the GPS from her phone, it took Rory nearly 15 minutes to find her in the crowded market. When he finally did spot her, he yelled for her three times before he realized that (a) he was yelling for Elizabeth, not Fi, and she might not recognize the name and (b) she was probably still deaf and hadn't heard him either way. She turned to a little stall that was selling woven and beaded jewelry, which allowed him to catch up.

"$25 dollars." The shop owner said, when Fi showed her the items she'd selected.

"Don't be ridiculous." Fi said, with the faintest trace of an accent that meant she was still deaf. "This is good workmanship. It must be worth $50 at least in time and materials. I won't underpay for this sort of quality."

When the woman heard this, she suddenly seemed very interested. She reached under the table and pulled out another tray filled with jewelry indistinguishable from the stuff already lining the table top. Fi seemed to disagree.

"Oh, this is gorgeous." She traced her fingers over a woven bracelet of red and gold as though it was made of precious stones.

"You have a good eye." The woman replied. Fi glanced up at the end of her statement and blushed.

"I'm sorry. Can you repeat that?"

The seller regarded Fi for a moment that seemed a bit awkward to Rory, who was standing patiently to the side, waiting and watching. "You have a good eye."

"Not as good as yours, ma'am."

"Who are you looking for?"

"I wanted to see what was here."

"You have seen." The woman didn't seem impatient, but there was definitely tension between them. Abruptly, Fi turned toward Rory. He hadn't thought she was even aware that he was watching.

"If I asked you to wear this, would you?" She was pointing at a long-ish string that had a lot of knots and a couple beads.

Caught off guard, he answered honestly. "Uh, maybe? Why?" A moment later, he realized that he was supposed to be a complete stranger to her.

The woman laughed. "Let his mind be his shield." Fi had glanced at her almost immediately after his answer, so she was able to respond this time.

"For now, I believe you are correct." She picked up the red and gold piece she had admired before, as well as a string of blue beads, and the two between them, one sort of grey and the other very green. Without waiting for the woman to state a price, she handed over several bills, the outermost of which was a $20. It could have been as much as one hundred dollars, but the woman didn't count it before she tucked it away.

"Blessings." Fi said.

"Luck." The woman replied. She put the board away, but Fi didn't move on.

"I don't suppose you could point me to your partner?" Now the woman looked almost hostile.

"Michael works Tuesdays."

"Thank you."

The two nodded to each other with something approaching respect, and Fi finally turned away from the stall and started walking through the market. "Before you start talking, let me put my glasses on. I was trying to practice without them, but I want to be able to actually hear to you." She fished a pair of sunglasses out of her purse, where she put her merchandise. "I've adapted my beta program to run off my phone, which is connected to these beauties. Armsmaster gave them to me this morning, so I could read the text from the program discretely. In school I could use my phone directly if I was discrete, but these are more polite and less noticeable."

"So even when you're not facing me…"

"The microphone in my phone is doing its best to analyze everything it can pick up, sort out conversation, transcribe it, and feed it to the screen in these glasses. Tinkers may be bullshit, but I have to admit I like working with them."

"Yeah. Uh, how do you know who I am?"

"Not a long process of elimination for me to go through. Very few people know me enough to recognize me. What's your civilian name?"

"Rory. Uh, Rory Christner."

"I'm Fi." She smiled and he smiled back. "I take it you got an 'eggshells' email too?"

"Pardon?"

"I should have guessed that saying what I said to Dragon would throw up some red flags, but it's not as bad as it sounds." She stopped walking and turned to face him. "I'm not teetering on the edge of some cliff. It's a bit more like a roller coaster. Last night was bad, but then, nothing about this experience has been a cake walk. I knew I'd have to explain everything eventually but… yesterday sort of sucked. It's not the first time I've clung on by my fingernails, and it won't be the last. You don't have to treat me like glass."

"We don't think you're fragile…"

"Like a warhead, then. I get it, I make people nervous and my attitude hasn't exactly helped matters. I'm just trying to sort through a lot of stuff right now."

"So let us help."

"And how do you intend to help?"

Rory shrugged, not sure what to say, but going with the first thing that came to mind. "I'll wear the bracelet."

She laughed, and it actually sounded amused instead of bitter. He counted that as progress. "You really would too, wouldn't you? Don't worry about it, I think she was right." Fi kept laughing, and even though he didn't get the joke, he let her keep going. She wandered over to a stand selling fries and bought a boatful topped garlic and shredded parmesan cheese. As they kept walking, she offered him some but he declined. "Do you really want to help?"

Surprised that this was actually working, Rory quickly agreed. "Yes."

Fi didn't elaborate right away. By this time they had passed the edges of the Market, and Fi sat on a bench facing toward the start of the beach, mindless of the gang tags, and Rory sat beside her, hoping no one noticed them and had a camera phone. His dad did not need to see this in a tabloid.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Shocked, Rory looked out over the bay. The sky was grey and overcast, the water was dark and choppy, and the sand had been churned by many feet. The ferry sat a little to their left, barely better than an eyesore, and beyond it he could see the Docks, the Graveyard, and a woman who was probably a hooker. Across the bay, the city buildings were drab, shapeless, looming masses. He didn't see any beauty.

"The next time I'm out of control, wandering closer to that cliff's edge and you think you're in danger of seeing Behemoth again, remind me that humanity is built of survivors and innovators. Remind me that we were surviving and innovating before Scion, and we will continue to do so after he is gone."

"You think he's going to leave?"

She hummed noncommittally.

"If you're trying to throw so much at me that I can't remember it all later, you're doing a good job."

Fi laughed again, but it sounded bitter. "Haven't you guessed? That's why Armsmaster built me these ugly frames." It was like a splash of cold water. For an intense moment, he was ashamed to be a part of a system that didn't know how to help Fi without also spying on her.

"I'm sorry." She smiled at him, and it looked genuine.

"It's okay. I'll just have to get used to it. Do you mind if we sit and enjoy the view for a while?"

"Sure." Honestly, there were a lot of things Rory would rather be doing than sitting on a freezing concrete bench, looking at a grey city-scape. But if this was what was needed to connect with his new teammate, he would. After only a few moments, Fi pulled out her phone and started texting. That really bothered him, but before he could say anything, she showed him her phone. It wasn't a texting app that was open, but a notepad.

 _Don't speak. I want to ask you an honest question and get an honest answer. Can you do that?_

Surprised, it took Rory a minute to process before he got out his own phone and opened his note app. He moved a little closer to Fi so they could see each other's screens while they typed.

 _Of course._

 _What do you know about that vial you drank?_

Rory couldn't help but gape at her. There was really only one vial she could mean, but even after she had hinted that she knew he wasn't a normal cape, he hadn't guessed that she knew details. Now, he was glad that this conversation wasn't being recorded and monitored.

 _How do you know about that?_

 _I asked you first. What do you know about that vial?_

 _My dad gave it to me, said it would give me powers. I drank it and woke up the next morning as Triumph._

 _Did he ever discuss the cost with you?_

 _No. How do you know about it?_

 _I know because my powers came out of a bottle too. Except I didn't volunteer, and I didn't trigger right away. I was one of their experimental cases. I was kidnapped, held prisoner, experimented on, and would have been killed if I hadn't escaped. It was only later that I triggered._

 _Wait, what? Are you sure it's the same source? Dad wouldn't have dealt with criminals!_

 _Even for the sake of his only, eldest, beloved son?_

Rory felt a chill that didn't come from the wind. It was horrible, but possible.

 _Is that why you don't like me? Because you thought I was a criminal?_

 _Yes._

 _What changed your mind?_

 _I'm a good judge of character, and you didn't react like I expected you to when I confronted you about not having a trigger. You were embarrassed and concerned about what would happen if you were exposed, but not defensive or guilty. So I kept watching. I finally decided that you weren't connected to the rest of it._

 _The rest of it?_

 _The organization that sold your powers to your father and who kidnapped and tortured me have a lot of influence in a lot of places, but especially in the PRT and Protectorate._

 _Are you sure?_

 _Yes. Don't ask for details. It would be dangerous for me to even tell you their name. But yes, they have a lot of direct agents, a lot of capes who owe them favors, and a lot of blackmail material._

 _Why are you still here?_

 _I don't give up without a fight. Legally, I can't touch them. They've written the laws to make it impossible to prosecute them either in the court or the media. And if I ignore that, I'd be risking my family because they'd come for me and they wouldn't stop until everyone who knew was dealt with. But sitting here, in the middle of the spider's web, I've got a chance. Not anything assured, but a chance. It means abandoning my family, cutting myself off, and trusting only very carefully. But I can try. I can talk to capes like you, who have no idea what's going on. I can talk to capes like Weld, who are victims as much as I am, but don't remember and don't know that they're still working for the enemy. And the thing is… we do have a common enemy. When the day comes, I will do whatever is necessary to defeat that enemy, even if it means working with those murderers. Until then, I will do what I can to stop their atrocities._

 _You said you couldn't do anything more against the Endbringers._

 _The Endbringers are not the biggest, weirdest, or deadliest fish in our little pond. Not even close._

 _I'll do whatever I can to help._

 _Don't be ridiculous. Weren't you listening? This organization has blackmail material or some other leverage over your father. That's how it works. Just because you were ignorant before doesn't mean that I can trust you now. Any day you might get an email with content that could destroy your family. You're compromised. I'm sorry, but that's the way it is. We can work together in the field as Wards, but the best thing you can do to help me in the long run, big picture, is act like you're still clueless._

Suddenly, without explanation, she left the app, deleted the note, and tucked her phone away. Rory looked up, confused, and saw a tall teenager jogging along the sand. Her current course would take her just past their bench, but she didn't seem to have noticed them yet.

"Taylor?" The girl looked up, and slowed to a walk. She approached cautiously, but stopped a little farther away than he expected. "Hey. How's your Saturday?"

"Fine." Taylor shrugged a little and glanced at him.

"This is Rory, a recent friend of mine. Taylor's a friend from school." He waved a little, unnerved by the space Taylor was putting between them. Taylor just nodded at him without smiling. "You okay, Taylor? That bruise looks nasty." Indeed, Taylor had a decent bruise on her cheek.

"Fell down at lunch."

"What did the nurse say?"

"Didn't show up until after dinner."

Fi hummed a little in sympathy. "You had lunch yet?"

"Not hungry." Taylor was hunched over a bit now, and Fi shrugged.

"Don't let me keep you from your run. See you soon." Taylor shrugged, then walked away without a good-bye. Fi watched her go. When she was out of earshot, Fi spoke without turning towards him. "Does she strike you as a violent person?"

"No. Not at all." The question actually shocked Rory. Taylor had been distant and quiet, but in a way that suggested she was nervous or defensive, not dangerous.

"Does she seem like the kind to exaggerate or seek attention?"

"No. I mean, she was here less than a minute, but the whole time it was like she was trying to be invisible. Why?"

"I just wanted to know what you thought of her."

"Who was she?"

"How many Taylors do you think I know?" It took Rory a moment to place the name, and Fi turned back to look at him in almost the same moment. It was eerie. "Don't worry. I'm obeying Director Renick. I haven't pursued the situation since he told me to stand down. I just wanted you to see the girl at the root of it all. No ulterior motives." Abruptly, she stood up. "I think I'd like some lunch now. Are you going to follow me around all day?"

Rory shrugged, trying to understand how such an insignificant teen had caused such problems for his team. She didn't seem worth fighting over, particularly if there was a large, insidious conspiracy to worry about.

"Well, I'd like to see a movie. What sounds good to you?"

They picked up tacos from a street stand, and Rory considered leaving her to her own devices. She certainly seemed to be stable. On the other hand, millions of lives were depending on her ability to keep it together. If she could swing from depressed to cheerful in twelve hours, the opposite was probably true too. That assumed that she was telling the truth, of course, but it wasn't hard to imagine that the PRT was verifying everything they could with the help of thinkers and pre-cogs. Until he was told otherwise, he'd be treating Contract with kid gloves.

So they bought tickets for a science-fiction movie. As far was Rory was concerned, it was two hours of bad CGI and semi-funny one-liners. After the movie, he discovered that Fi had seen it quite differently. She was gushing, for lack of a more dignified term.

"I just love Reynolds as a director, and you simply can't dislike any soundtrack with Yoshi's name on it. The use of the deeper wind instruments to set up the foil between hero and antagonist was a little trite, I suppose, but using lighting would be just so overdone. I think the long shots were good too: continuous scenes really help build the tension and the pan-in pan-out motion kept the visual interest up without crossing the line into nausea. I don't think I liked the high shots, they broke the tension too much, and I wish that Reynolds would remember that just because he has reduced vision in his left eye, not everyone does, and pointing the camera that way occasionally wouldn't kill anyone. I've heard people argue that it's a commentary on the natural imbalance of the world at large, but I don't agree. I just think he's lazy. But oh! You can't argue with nice, subtle CGI. I like a director that calculates the actual physics of a detonation of a certain energy density instead of just using the biggest setting the computer has. It keeps from breaking the suspension of disbelief, although I suppose most audiences don't have much to compare to. What did you think? I felt like the percussion could have been a bit louder, especially when they were in the senate."

By this time they'd wandered down the street past the bus stop, and Fi finally stopped for breath, looking up at Rory.

"Uh, I liked it."

Immediately, she glanced away and blushed. "Sorry. I didn't realize I was gushing. I tend to do that after a movie, or a play, or almost any performance really. Next time just cut me off."

"No, I don't mind listening."

"I'm serious. Josh always tells me to just…" she abruptly she cut herself off, looking away and unconsciously walking slower.

"Josh was a friend?"

"He's my older brother." The simple statement hit Rory in the gut. For the first time, what Contract had said seemed real. She had left her family, and as much as she was missing them, they were probable worried about her too. He tried to imagine if Kyla or Michelle had simply vanished one day, without a trace. Had Fi known that she would have to cut ties? Had she gotten to say good-bye?

"I'm sorry." She shrugged. Her good mood had vanished, but she seemed to be pensive rather than depressed.

"Nothing to be done, now." They walked in silence for a few minutes, and Rory suddenly wondered if Fi had a destination in mind, or if she thought he was leading them somewhere. Just as he was considering inviting her over for dinner, just to keep her from being alone, Fi sighed and stopped walking. "I think I'm going to catch a bus back to my house. Have fun with your family."

"You sure? You'd be welcome to come over." Rory didn't want to leave her now, when she was still down.

"I'm fine. Go home. I can keep out of trouble." Reluctantly, Rory watched Fi walk back towards the bus stop they had passed. He wished he was more able to believe the smile she'd given him as she turned away. When he got home, he sent off a reply to Company. It took him a long time to write it, because he couldn't decide if the day had been a success or a failure. On one hand, she had opened up, been honest, and they had even shared a few jokes during the movie. On the other hand, she had clearly and explicitly stated that she would never and could never trust him. But that last part couldn't be explained with serious repercussions. In the end, he reported it as a success. She had said they would be able to work together in the field, and that was what mattered. Maybe, with more time and exposure, she'd come to trust him.

Even as he thought it, Rory wondered what he'd do if the situation ever arose. He loved his father, his family, and he couldn't imagine being willing to hurt them. But he was also a hero, and if his father had willingly gone to a criminal organization, then he was guilty. Rory wanted to think he'd do the right thing, but the situation felt too surreal for him to be able to be confident.

Maybe, a part of himself wanted to stay a part of the Wards to give himself the chance to find out if he was the hero he thought he could be.


	8. Wish Granted

**Chapter Eight: Careful What You Wish For**

 **March 6, 2011**

Some school days were harder than others, but Taylor felt like this Monday might be the worst one she'd face since leaving the hospital. All morning, as she showered, ran, and ate breakfast, she was trying to bargain herself into going to school. If she could make it through the day, she promised herself that she'd skip homework and spend the entire afternoon exploring her bugs, but she knew she'd never make it past lunch and that made it hard to force herself to go at all.

Finally, Taylor decided that she would go to first period and leave directly afterward. She would take the test scheduled for today, she would see Ms. Knott smile at her, and she wouldn't have to deal with Sophia or Emma or Madison. If she did that, if she just made it through that one class, she would take a bus to the library and spend the rest of the school day browsing through Parahumans Online. That was enough to get her out the door and onto the bus. There, she ignored Julia, who sat behind her and kicked her seat in a relentless, even rhythm all the way to school.

She took the long route from the bus unloading zone to her first class, so that Ms. Knott was already there when she arrived and she could go straight to her seat. Ms. Knott emailed the test to their inboxes, and then the classroom was silent. Taylor reveled in it as she breezed through the work. The quiet clicking was soothing, and so was the sharp eye of the teacher. Ms. Knott was looking for cheaters, but the scrutiny worked against bullying too.

Taylor had less than five minutes of work left when Ms. Knott received a call on her in-class phone.

"Gladys Knott." Without any explanation of why, Taylor felt her stomach drop. "Yes, she is." Somehow, she knew it was about her. "Right away? We are the middle of a test." Ms. Knott's face looked unhappy for a minute and she looked over at Taylor, meeting her eye. "I understand. Very well." Ms. Knott hung up the phone. No one was working on their test anymore.

"Taylor, please save and submit your work. I'll grade it with the understanding that you were interrupted after less than half the allotted time. You are needed in Principal Blackwell's office. Take your things."

Taylor felt herself standing up, numb, and slowly walking out of the room while the whispers grew and Ms. Knott tried to regain control of her class. She stood in the hallway, out of sight of the classroom, for a long moment. She could leave school, but it wouldn't change whatever situation her tormentors had cooked up. Likely, it would only make it worse. She couldn't imagine what they had told Blackwell, but it couldn't be good. Even after deciding that she wasn't going to back down and run away, it took a few minutes to convince herself to walk toward Blackwell's office.

When she arrived, she found the space around the secretary's desk crowded. Sophia, Madison, and Julia were present, and surprisingly none of them looked happy. There was a police officer, and a man in a suit who might have been a detective, a PRT agent, or some other official. The secretary waved her out of the walk way, and she ended up standing by the suit in order to put as much space as possible between herself and the other girls. The secretary was on the phone, and everyone else was quiet.

"Is Emma Barnes in your class this morning? Good. Have her report to the principal's office immediately. Yes, that's what I said, right away." She hung up the phone and glanced at the police officer nervously. Before anyone could say anything, one of the school counselors walked in and approached Taylor.

"Taylor Hebert?"

"Yes."

The counselor nodded, and held out a hand. "I'm Miss Bird." The name was rather unfortunate, because the woman actually looked bit like a bird; she was thin and walked with a bit of a bob in her step, but the stress kept Taylor from smiling as she shook her hand.

Sophia, who was closest out of all the girls, stuck her hand out immediately. "I'm Sophia Hess." She smiled charmingly, and Taylor bit her tongue to keep from giving any outward reaction. Sophia could turn on the charm nearly as well as Emma, when there was cause to do so.

"Yes, I know." Miss Bird said as she shook her hand. Surprisingly, she didn't move any closer to Sophia or seem to pay her any mind. She turned back to Taylor, just as Emma came in the door. Emma gave the room a look, then shot a poisonous glare at Taylor. Taylor did her best to focus on Miss Bird and not flinch. "How are you doing today, Taylor?" Taylor shrugged, not really paying attention and not sure how to respond to the question. She knew her cheek still had the shadow of the bruise that Sophia had given her Friday at lunch, but it wasn't nearly as noticeable as it had been on Saturday when she'd run into Fi.

Taylor wasn't really sure what to make of Fi. Two weeks ago, Fi had shown up in her biology class and had been introduced as a transfer student who'd just moved to Brockton Bay. She had watched Madison trip Taylor on her way to hand in her homework, and Fi had given Madison a look so dirty that she left Taylor alone for the rest of the class. The next day, she'd noticed when Madison didn't hand a worksheet to Taylor, and had taken two off the stack when it came to her, passing one to Taylor, while glaring at Madison in a way that seemed to invite her to protest if she dared. Madison hadn't. On that first Wednesday, Taylor had tracked her down outside where she was hiding during lunch, brought her up to the third floor where it was warm, but no one bothered them. She'd asked about the bullying and had told Taylor that she wanted to help.

Taylor hadn't believed her. Fi had claimed to be a cape, and Taylor had told her she didn't believe that either. But that night, Taylor had gotten a PM from Contract, a verified cape, on PHO that had a picture of Fi in civilian clothes attached. She'd replied cautiously, basically boiling down to "why me." Fi had replied that she just wanted to help. Somehow, that had made Taylor more nervous. Despite that, she decided to bring her notes to school on Friday. Maybe Fi could help.

That had been over a week ago, and since then she'd had no contact with Fi, or her friend Jason. She'd assumed that they'd gotten bored, given up, or maybe even been a plant from Emma all along.

It suddenly occurred to Taylor that she might have given up on hope too soon. Maybe, this scene hadn't been orchestrated by Emma and her friends. Certainly, they didn't look too happy at the moment. Before she could consider it any further, Blackwell stepped out of her office and looked at the crowded anteroom. "Everyone here? Good. Follow me." Blackwell opened the door just beside her office and held it while they slowly filed in. Inside was an oval conference table. Miss Bird walked down to the farthest end and took a seat, giving a smile to Taylor as she did so. Cautiously, Taylor chose the seat next to her. The police officer took the seat on Bird's other side while Blackwell and the man in the suit sat opposite each other near the middle of the table. The four girls took the end of the table closest to the door, and Blackwell's secretary shut the door.

"We are here to discuss allegations of severe bullying, including the criminal actions taken against Miss Hebert on January 3rd." Blackwell started off immediately. She turned toward Taylor, who was trying to be sure she'd heard correctly, but the police officer spoke before she could continue. He addressed the girls sitting at other end of the table.

"None of you are under arrest at this time. However, depending on your behavior and the evidence presented here today, I have been authorized to make arrests as necessary."

"I want to call my father." Emma said, immediately. The police officer nodded as though he expected this.

"That is your right. You can tell him to meet you at the station. Anyone else?" Emma gasped and pulled back like she'd been slapped, suddenly very pale, but he was looking at the other girls, who were frozen and silent.

"You can't arrest me for asking for my rights!" Emma spat at him.

"I won't arrest you. But if you're going to call in your father, a lawyer, then we will simply move your portion of the questioning to the station." She sputtered, but he was looking at the other girls. Madison and Julia were stock still, like they were scared to breath, but Sophia had regained her composure.

"I'd like to make a phone call." The policeman nodded.

"Very well. You may both step into the office and use the school phone. Wait there until we are finished in here. You are not to speak to each other."

The two girls sat still for a moment, shocked, then both stood up and slowly left the room. Once they were gone, the man in the suit turned to Taylor. "You are Taylor Hebert?"

"Yes." She said, still feeling lost by the rapid pace of events.

"I am Officer Willis. This is Sargent Doyle. We'd like to hear about the bullying you've been facing. I understand that it can be uncomfortable to talk in front of other students. If you wish to speak to us without them listening, you may. However, we have reason to believe that these girls may be able to collaborate your testimony and we'd like them to hear it as you say it, if possible."

"What's going to happen?" Taylor asked. That was really what mattered. "If I tell you one thing and they disagree, what will happen?"

"Everyone involved in the incident on January 3rd will be facing two months of in school suspension." Blackwell said, although she didn't look happy about it. "Other incidents will be taken on a case-by-case basis."

"How do you decide who was involved?" Taylor pressed. If she named Emma and her friends, and they didn't end up punished severely, Sophia would take it out of her hide. Officer Willis put his briefcase on the table. He pulled out a black box with five lights arranged in a line on top, and a cord attaching it to a metal pad.

"This is a new piece of tinker tech that the PRT is loaning to us for this case as part of its beta testing process. Simply place your hand on the pad while you speak, and the lights will indicate when you speak truth, and when you speak lies. All testimony admitted in this case will be screened by this device."

"What?" Julia interjected, standing up in shock. "Why?"

"The exact reasons are confidential." Office Willis replied calmly. Blackwell looked like she was sucking on a lemon. "But I am authorized to say that a very powerful parahuman has taken an interest in Brockton Bay and she is specifically concerned about that incident with the locker. Orders have come from very high up to get this situation resolved immediately. We are taking it very seriously."

Taylor didn't know how to react. On one hand, it seemed like justice was finally going to be served. On the other, it was only happening because an S-class cape had demanded it. If Fi had befriended Emma instead of Taylor, things would be going very differently. Numbly, she placed her hand on the offered metal plate. She hated that the system was so corrupt that it had to be pressured into doing the right thing, but Taylor wasn't dumb enough to cut off her nose to spite her face.

Officer Willis flicked a switch on the side of the device. "Please state your name."

"I'm Taylor Hebert." The bulb on the far left of the machine lit up in with a sharp green light.

"Do you know who was responsible for locking you into your locker on January 3rd?"

"Yes. It was Sophia Hess, Emma Barnes, and Madison Clements." The green light moved right, toward the center and Officer Willis frowned slightly. Before he could speak, Miss Bird jumped in.

"Why do you believe it was those girls?"

"They've been the ring leaders behind the bullying since September." The green light moved back to the left edge. "Other kids get into it, especially their friends, but those three are the main leaders." Madison was looking very uncomfortable.

Miss Bird pressed the question. "Did you see them on January 3rd?"

"Emma and Sophia were waiting by my locker. I don't remember if Madison was with them or not. I know that Sophia was the one who physically shoved me into the locker. She's always the most physical, and I was bent over throwing up so I saw her move up on me from behind." The light stayed consistently on the far right.

"But you don't know that Madison was there?"

"I didn't see her. But the locker has come up several times since then when they are bullying me, and she takes just as much credit as the other girls."

"I wasn't even in school that day!" Madison burst out.

"Wait your turn, Miss Clements." Officer Willis admonished her.

"No. This is crap. I don't have to sit here and listen to her make stuff up!"

Officer Willis sighed, but reached into his brief case and pulled out two more metal pads, which he plugged into the main box. He set one pad in front of Madison and one in front of Julia. Madison eyed it like a snake, and Julia moved both hands off the table.

"If you are going to speak, put your hand on the pad."

He gave all of us a look. "Do not speak on top of each other. The machine can only track one statement at a time. Now, Madison, either put your hand on the pad and state your name, or you may join your friends in the lobby and wait for a ride down to the police station." Carefully, Madison did as instructed and Julia followed suit. The entire time, the green light never wavered.

"Madison, were you involved in the incident on January 3rd?"

"I didn't go to school that day." The green light flickered one space to the left then returned as she spoke.

"Did you know about it before hand?"

"I heard some girls discussing it." The green light at the end went out, and the one next to it flared to life, along with the yellow light in the center.

"Did you help plan or execute the attack?"

"No." The far left light lit up an angry red. Madison snatched her hand off the pad and jerked so hard, her chair rolled back several inches. Officer Willis ignored her. He turned to Julia.

"Tell us everything you know about January 3rd."

Julia looked a bit sick, glancing between Madison and the adults, but slowly she started to talk in a quavering voice. As she did, the machine registered one or both of the green lights. "It was Emma's idea to ease off of Taylor for a while, then do something big to her. Madison mentioned the locker, and Sophia suggested that we add trash. It was a long discussion, I don't remember who said what exactly. We planned it out before break, and then on the last Friday of school, we got into the school and stuffed all the junk inside. We used trash from the dumpster mostly, but Emma and Madison had a bag they brought with them that smelled especially bad that they were going to put on top. I left before they actually opened it, so I don't know what was in it. I was in the crowd when Taylor got to the locker that Monday. I wasn't trying to stick around and watch, I was just… there. I didn't see who pushed her into the locker, but I know that Emma was the one who slammed it shut. After, she stood there holding it shut even after it was latched. She was laughing louder than anyone else."

Officer Willis nodded like he had expected this and turned back to Taylor. "There is an email on record which was forwarded to us from a cape. Did you send two PDF scans to a PRT email address on Friday, February 25th, 2011?"

"Yes."

"To the best of your knowledge, was the content of those PDFs accurate?"

"Yes."

"To the best of your knowledge, was any part of the content of those PDFs deliberately misleading?"

"No."

"To the best of your knowledge, was any part of the content of those PDFs accidentally misleading?"

"No. Some of it is sort of abbreviated, but it was never supposed to be hard to read. It was just a lot of incidents to record."

Throughout Taylor's answer the machine had shown the far right green light only. Officer Willis looked at Sargent Doyle.

"Do you have any further questions?"

"No, I think they can all be asked at the station. You girls are both facing arrest at the very least. Will you come to the station quietly?" They were too stunned to resist as he led them out of the room. Officer Willis turned to Blackwell.

"At this point I'd say it's likely that one or more of those girls is facing jail time. We will provide you a copy of all evidence and testimony reports so that you may discipline the remainder as you see fit."

"Thank you." Blackwell said, but she didn't seem any less unhappy. He turned to Taylor, and handed her a business card.

"Let me know if you think of anything not included in those PDFs."

Rather than reach out and take it, Taylor decided to see how serious he was. "Last Friday, Sophia Hess shoved me into a wall lined with lockers. That's where I got this bruise. After I fell down, she kicked me into that same wall." For the first time, he looked ruffled. She decided to keep going. "Last Monday, she made it clear that she had somehow found out about the email I sent. She knew that I had told someone, and she had seven or eight of her friends help her back me into a corner while they all told me what a rat I was. Last week was one of the most intense stretches of bullying I've seen since the locker. I hate Emma, because she betrayed me and she hurts me the deepest emotionally. But if Sophia comes back to this school, I won't. Not after these accusations. She'll put me back in the hospital."

The green light had flickered a few times, mostly where Taylor herself could admit she was unsure of the exact details. But on the last bit, it held solid in the far right spot. Officer Willis nodded, looking very thoughtful, and set the business card down on the table next to her hand.

"I understand you fear. Is there anything else you'd like to say?" Taylor was shocked to realize that he believed her, or at least was taking her seriously. Anything she might have wanted to say escaped her. She shook her head.

He nodded, and Taylor took her hand off the pad so he could pack the lie detector back into the brief case. After he left the room, Taylor slid the card into her pocket and there was an awkward silence.

"When you go back to class, don't tell anyone about this." Taylor felt like she was returning from a long way away as she tried to focus on Blackwell's words. "Until the official investigation is over, we shouldn't be too hasty." Taylor knew she was staring blankly at Blackwell, but she wasn't sure what else she could do to respond. She had too many things she wanted to say, and most of them could get her in trouble. She wanted to rub the school's nose in the facts that they had been ignoring for over a year. She wanted to dance in victory like a six year old. And she wanted to ask Blackwell if outside forces had kept her from investigating, just as outside forces were now forcing her to do the opposite.

Miss Bird spoke before she could get herself in trouble. "Considering that the other girls won't be returning to class today, I think it might be better for Taylor and I to talk for a while, and then for Taylor to take the rest of the day off. Having one girl return will only feed speculation as to the fate of the rest." Blackwell's lemon face was back, but she didn't protest.

As Taylor followed Miss Bird to her office, she tried to wrap her head around the fact that it was over. More than a year of torment was done. She could go to class tomorrow and not worry about Sophia, or Emma. Depending on the investigation, it wasn't out of the question that some of their friends would face in-school suspension for helping them. Taylor knew she ought to feel elated, and part of her did, but most of her was in shock, trying to understand what, exactly, had happened.


	9. Meanwhile, on the World Wide Web

**Chapter Nine: Meanwhile, on the World Wide Web…**

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* * *

 **Topic: Did I Miss a Press Release?**

 **In: Boards** **America** **Brockton Bay** **Discussion Boards**

 **Ryus** (Original Poster) (Veteran Member)

Posted On Feb 25th 2011:

So, did I miss a press release or something? Because this the second time in a week that we've had two heroes show up in Winslow and break up a gang fight, and I don't recognize either one. They appear and disappear very quickly, which leads me to suspect they are students (and therefore Wards). Info? Anybody?

 **(Showing page 6 of 7)**

► **XxVoid_CowboyxX** (Banned)

Replied On Feb 28th 2011:

[DELETED]

► **Tin Mother** (Moderator)

Replied On Feb 28th 2011:

I don't care how vaguely you word it, that is still speculation on cape identity. Take a two month ban and think about it.

► **BadSamurai**

Replied On Mar 1st 2011:

So, a bunch of girls got arrested at Winslow today, but neither cape made an appearance. Maybe they were just being loaned to Winslow to scare the gangs a little?

► **Space Zombie**

Replied On Mar 1st 2011:

I happened to have seen the post by **XxVoid_CowboyxX** before it got taken down, and I can say that not only is he an idiot, he is also wrong. I joined the independent computer study classes today, and it's exactly what it says on the label. This is just a program to expand the options of Winslow students. Nothing crazy going on.

► **Deadman**

Replied On Mar 1st 2011:

Just because someone is arrested doesn't mean the capes would even be needed. Unless they were arresting a cape, the police are perfectly capable of upholding the law.

► **BadSamurai**

Replied On Mar 1st 2011:

But wouldn't they be there just in case? I'm telling you, there's no way a Ward goes to Winslow. Be real. If you had the chance to go to Arcadia, would you pass it up?

► **Sothoth**

Replied On Mar 1st 2011:

I'm surprised that it's been at least 5 days now and we haven't gotten any official word yet. I know there was a media blackout put down in regards to Contract, but the chick showed up in costume in a public venue. What more is a press release going to do?

► **Space Zombie**

Replied On Mar 1st 2011:

If I was her, I'd just travel city to city and take a home-school program. Harder to pin down and catch. She's probably already gone.

► **BondFan007**

Replied On Mar 1st 2011:

I'm a huge fan of spy stuff and even I know that's ridiculous. There's not that many cape cities in the US. And if that was the case, they could just say so.

► **Ne**

Replied On Mar 1st 2011:

So... this is totally off topic and I know it, but does anyone know who was arrested? I was in class with Taylor when she got called up and she never came back, but who else?

 **End of Page.** **1** **,** **2** **,** **3** **...** **5** **, 6,** **7**

 **(Showing page 7 of 7)**

► **Acree**

Replied On Mar 1st 2011:

So long as it's a short divergence, it shouldn't be to offensive to people. I know Emma, Sophia, and Julia never made it to their afternoon classes, and I heard that four girls were driven to the station, so that's all four of them.

► **Ferry Girl**

Replied On Mar 1st 2011:

The fourth girl was Madison. Taylor spent the day in the counselor's office.

► **Intrepid** (Verified Cape)

Replied On Mar 1st 2011:

I'd like to make a few statements. Yes, I have moved to Brockton Bay, and my day-time schedule allows me to be the first responder to many incidents at and near Winslow High. The intense gang activity was one reason for my choice of location, but the bullying taking place at Winslow also played a role. As I understand it, the police presence earlier today was related to the events of January 3rd, in which Taylor was most certainly a victim. I have been told that no arrests were made on campus. A few girls were taken to the police station for formal questioning. As **Deadman** said, the police are perfectly capable of questioning four teenagers without cape help.

 **End of Page.** **1** **,** **2** **,** **3** **...** **5** **,** **6** **, 7**

* * *

 **Topic: Press Release: Contract**

 **In: Boards** **America** **Capes** **Discussion Board**

 **Legend** (Original Poster) (Verified Cape) (Triumvirate)

Posted on February 2, 2011:

GENERAL PRESS RELEASE:

On Monday afternoon, at 2:13 PM, Behemoth attacked New York City, New York. He advanced toward the World Trade Center for 14 minutes. At 2:27 PM, Behemoth was stopped by a cape named Contract.

Contract is a minor and joined the Wards within hours of Behemoth's defeat. See attached photo for details of her current costume.

Contract has chosen not to release any information about her previous life. For her own protection and that of her family, she has willingly placed herself in PRT custody.

[Attachment]

 **(Showing Page 63 of 198)**

► **Classico** (Unverified Cape)

Replied on February 3, 2011:

Can a minor even place herself into custody?

► **BookLover454**

Replied on February 3, 2011:

Maybe her family was abusing her, so she was actually placed there for her own protection in more ways than one.

► **PuddleJ**

Replied on February 3, 2011:

 **Booklover454** that's a serious accusation. Be careful throwing it around.

It seems more likely that they got in contact with her family and got all the proper releases. But even saying "her parents placed her into PRT custody" would give details such as the fact that she has two living parents. She took down an Endbringer, every villain on the planet wants to find her family and use them for leverage. The PRT could lie, but it sets a bad precedent.

► **Booklover454**

Replied on February 3, 2011:

If she didn't place herself in custody, saying she did is also a lie. The only way I see for that statement to be true is if her family didn't have any right to have a say in her life.

► **Bagrat** (The Guy In The Know) (Veteran Member)

Replied on February 3, 2011:

Not necessarily. Let me disclaim by saying that this is pure speculation, not a statement based on my vast stores of knowledge.

Now, let's suppose that Contract has literally chosen not to release any information about her previous life. Maybe, she hasn't even released that information to the PRT etc. In that case, they would either have to accept her as a minor without legal guardians, or not accept her at all. When the cape in question just took down an S-class threat, not accepting her isn't an option. Neither is forcing her to give up the information, especially since the only reason you want to know her parent's identities is so that you can make her parents irrelevant.

Again, I have no idea if this is the case. It's merely idle speculation to show **Booklover454** that there are always other scenarios you haven't thought of yet. Child abuse is a serious accusation and it's not the only explanation.

► **Contract** (Verified Cape)

Replied on February 3, 2011:

My family never abused me. Quite the opposite. Thanks **Bagrat** for sticking up for them.

► **Classico** (Unverified Cape)

Replied on February 3, 2011:

Whoa. Was that you **Contract**?

► **Contract** (Verified Cape)

Replied on February 3, 2011:

How dumb would I have to be to claim to be an S-class cape if I wasn't actually me? See also: Verified Cape.

► **PuddleJ**

Replied on February 3, 2011:

Don't suppose you'd answer a few questions? Like when you got a PHO username? How long you've been spying on us?

► **Contract** (Verified Cape)

Replied on February 3, 2011:

No one can stop you from asking. What I will and won't answer is a long list. Take your shot.

I've actually been a verified cape on this site for more than six years. I just never posted anything public and I never did anything that made people take notice. This is the first thing I've really done under the name Contract. I used it at NYC because it was the first thing that came to mind. Before that, I think the last time I even picked up my mask was...eight months ago? Maybe? Or maybe it was December before last? IDK

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 **(Showing Page 64 of 198)**

► **XxVoid_CowboyxX**

Replied on February 3, 2011:

Does that mean you've done things other under names? And why didn't you take out Behemoth last April? Or Leviathan when he attacked Scotland?

► **Bagrat** (The Guy In The Know) (Veteran Member)

Replied on February 3, 2011:

I think the number one question on everyone's mind is your powers. Any comments?

I'm guessing that might be on the long list you won't answer, so I'd also like to know what type of pie you eat. Favorite movie?

► **CalledKrazy**

Replied on February 3, 2011:

Oh, yeah. Give us all the really deep secrets. What's your favorite color? Your jam song? Do you like cats or dogs? Come on, we can handle it!

► **Keyboard in a Bar**

Replied on February 3, 2011:

Are you happy right now?

► **Ferry Girl**

Replied on February 3, 2011:

What are you going to do next? Where are you going to go?

► **J the Dawg**

Replied on February 3, 2011:

Are you in a relationship? Straight? Gay? Transgender? Transvestite?

► **Classico** (Unverified Cape)

Replied on February 3, 2011:

Have you done cape-things out of costume? The way you mention the mask specifically seems to hint at that.

► **Contract** (Verified Cape)

Replied on February 3, 2011:

So... evidently going online is dangerous when you're a celebrity? People who know more than I do about PR told me to log on, apologize for disappearing on you as I am about to do, and not touch my account again until they tell me to. Before I go, as an apology, I'll answer a few of your questions, starting with **Ferry Girl**.

I don't know where I'm going next, but I'll be doing hero stuff no matter where I go. To the surprise of many, this may or may not include my mask. As **Classico** noted, I don't often use a costume. However, this is because I see 'cape things' and 'hero stuff' as two different actions entirely. I try to live by the quote: "All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing."

I believe that every good man who does something instead of nothing is a hero, and that rarely requires a mask. Having said that, **XxVoid_CowboyxX** , you can be assured that if I had possessed the ability to stop any of the Endbringers sooner, I would have done so.

Which brings me to my powers. As **Bagrat** guessed, I don't like to discuss them. I won't do so here. I will tell you that I have spent more than one night curled up with cherry cobbler watching old westerns.

With that, I bid you all farewell, for now. I have to go be a good little Ward now, and say goodnight Gracie.

► **Bagrat** (The Guy In The Know) (Veteran Member)

Replied on February 3, 2011:

Adios until we see you again!

► **J the Dawg**

Replied on February 3, 2011:

I have been reminded by my roommate that you are a class S cape that just ate a class S threat. I think I should clarify that I was joking, earlier. I hope you're very happy with your life style, whatever it may be.

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* * *

 **Topic: Wanted: Devil in Denim**

 **In: Boards** **America** **Brockton Bay** **Connections**

 **Roses of Success** (Original Poster)

Posted on February 2, 2011:

Tin Foils ahoy! You'll never get to the bottom of this one!

 **(Showing Page 1 of 3)**

► **Roses of Success** (Original Poster)

Replied on February 2, 2011:

How they hanging? Our favorite DJ made double what was expected on the last concert. Got mobbed on the way out the door, but the egg washed right off the limo.

► **Roses of Success** (Original Poster)

Replied on February 3, 2011:

It's one thing to fight dragons when the hero has a princess to protect. But would it kill him to leave them alone if all they're doing is hoarding gold? Can't the hero prioritize a little?

► **Roses of Success** (Original Poster)

Replied on February 4, 2011:

The goose is flying. Our house is made of cheese. Dogs walk backwards on weekdays.

On a more serious note: the debutant went to her ball and kept both glass slippers firmly on her feet.

► **Book Worm**

Replied on February 8, 2011:

Did you know that a bed of roses is actually pretty uncomfortable? They've got thorns and s***.

The DJ has scheduled the next concert. The debutant is taking dancing lessons from the lion.

► **Roses of Success** (Original Poster)

Replied on February 10, 2011:

Fun Fact: Vodka is flammable. Who knew? Best consumed with pretzels.

Also, for the record, the early worm gets eaten.

DJ had to change venues en-route. Opinion polls pending.

Debutant skinned lion. Now wearing pelt. Fashion circuit not impressed.

► **Roses of Success** (Original Poster)

Replied on February 13, 2011:

DJ popularity continues to rise. Debutant to dance at next event, assuming pelt can be tanned in time.

► **Book Worm**

Replied on February 16, 2011:

If at first you don't succeed, trying the same thing again probably won't help.

But try telling that to Moroccans.

► **XxVoid_CowboyxX**

Replied on February 20, 2011:

This post should be deleted by a mod. It's obviously a list of instructions to gang members. Roses of Success is a boss running two teams, DJ and Debutant. Book Worm is HIS boss! Why has this not been dealt with already?

► **Book Worm**

Replied on February 20, 2011:

Should I recommend our new friend in spurs take up a good diet and exercise?

► **Roses of Success** (Original Poster)

Replied on February 20, 2011:

Debutant says his mind will be his shield.

 **End of Page. 1,** **2** **,** **3**

 **(Showing Page 2 of 3)**

► **Book Worm**

Replied on February 20, 2011:

Debutant said the same thing about a certain mangy cur.

► **Dancing on Jupiter**

Replied on February 20, 2011:

Was she wrong? DJ headed for the orange zone. Debutant headed to waltz.

► **Roses of Success** (Original Poster)

Replied on February 22, 2011:

A ship sails without stirring waves or wind, is it really moving?

DJ forced to play at rodeo in order to pay gambling bill. Footage unavailable.

Debutant locked in tower on authority of Venus.

► **Book Worm**

Replied on February 23, 2011:

Fire is fun. Less so in the rain.

► **Roses of Success** (Original Poster)

Replied on February 23, 2011:

Those who can't do, teach. Those who can't teach, write.

DJ running from bulls.

Debutant overruled Venus with assistance from NASA. Venus appealing to lion.

► **Roses of Success** (Original Poster)

Replied on February 25, 2011:

A certain cup has been filled by the warmest saltwater.

► **Book Worm**

Replied on February 26, 2011:

A rose by any other name wouldn't be a rose.

Cup confirmed. Liberty drinks deeply tonight.

► **Roses of Success** (Original Poster)

Replied on February 27, 2011:

Books are heavy.

DJ has booked a nightclub of head cases.

Lion ruled in favor of Venus. Debutant now a horse thief.

► **Roses of Success** (Original Poster)

Replied on February 28, 2011:

DJ has decided to run a speakeasy. Debutant has promised to sing on opening night. Venus is paying for drinks.

► **Book Worm**

Replied on March 2, 2011:

Roses die.

A certain butterfly has been snared by a blue spider. Texas Ranger is snipping threads.

 **End of Page.** **1** **, 2,** **3**

 **(Showing Page 3 of 3)**

► **Roses of Success** (Original Poster)

Replied on March 5, 2011:

Knock Knock

Who's there?

Interrupting Cow

► **Roses of Success** (Original Poster)

Replied on March 5, 2011:

DJ contracted for a film. Debutant preferring Broadway.

► **Roses of Success** (Original Poster)

Replied on March 7, 2011:

Dragons, Dracula, and dog-pile!

When Sniper kicks an ant-hill, she finds termites. Best of luck to our good friend, **Ferry Girl**!

► **Book Worm**

Replied on March 7, 2011:

Smooth sailing on that sea of lilies.

► **Dancing on Jupiter**

Replied on March 7, 2011:

I second the motion from the tree killer.

► **Roses of Success** (Original Poster)

Replied on March 7, 2011:

Destiny is written in mistakes and in sand. Kick a castle.

► **Roses of Success** (Original Poster)

Replied on March 7, 2011:

And seriously, what captain doesn't hear the baying of his bloodhound?

► **Jolly, Jolly Roger**

Replied on March 7, 2011:

German shepherd confirms the bloodhound. This time. Seriously, man. Don't go around waking Hellhounds without at least two steaks on hand.

► **Dancing on Jupiter**

Replied on March 7, 2011:

Yeah, you should know better. Remember the five rules. Demons lie, vampires suck, and centaurs kick like mules.

In other news, I could really use a lion tamer if one was available.

 **End of Page.** **1** **,** **2** **, 3**

* * *

Taylor spent a long time staring at the screen, trying to make sense of it. The connections boards were used for all sorts of things, and this thread appeared to be three people passing information back and forth. She had read the three pages several times, and nothing made sense. Normally a post like this would have tinfoil hats coming out of the woodwork to speculate, but the only one who'd said anything was XxVoid_CowboyxX, and he'd basically been ignored.

Perhaps the tinfoils had left it alone because it was such complete nonsense. Even the post with her username tagged was indecipherable to her. It was possible that the ant-hill referred to the events of that morning in school. It was unnerving, to see her username in the middle of strangers' codes. She debated leaving a reply of some sort, but couldn't think what she wanted to say. She couldn't think who would care or be watching Winslow that wouldn't be able to talk to each other in person. Eventually, she just decided to ignore it.

Instead, she went back and read the post where Contract answered her questions. It had been before Fi had moved to Brockton Bay or known anything about who she was. And maybe it had been the questions that she asked, but Contract had answered her _first_. That one post had gotten her to school every day for a week after it was up. She read it again, now. In that one post, Contract summed up everything that Taylor herself felt about the way justice ought to work. It was so refreshing to know that there was someone out there who thought the same way; someone powerful out there agreed with her.

That was when Taylor realized that she was okay with what had happened that morning. It might have taken pressure from an S-class cape, but that S-class cape was one who said that heroism was as simple as standing up instead of standing by, and Taylor decided that she could live with that. Even better, she had been defended by Intrepid, and he certainly didn't know her from Eve. Briefly, Taylor debated joining the Wards. It would be nice to have friends like Contract and Intrepid. Maybe it wouldn't be another source of teenage drama. She'd have to discuss the idea with Fi, assuming she could find her and get her away from Jason.


	10. Reading Between the Lines

**Chapter Ten: Reading Between the Lines**

 **March 7, 2011**

Dragon knew that she ought to trust the local PRT and police departments to handle the Hebert case, but she couldn't help shadowing it to ensure they didn't miss any details. Fortunately, the officers assigned to the case were competent and managed to work together smoothly, so that by Monday afternoon the bullying case had been completely documented, and the PRT had found parole violations that even Dragon hadn't noticed. Before she turned her attention away from the situation, she decided to check on Taylor one more time.

The IP address in question was logged into PHO, so Dragon used one of her moderator accounts to see what she was viewing. It was a discussion thread in the connections board that seemed to be made of pure nonsense. The truly peculiar detail, was that there were virtually no conspiracy or speculating posts. Dragon saw that **Roses of Success** had tagged **Ferry Girl** , and this was likely what had brought it to her attention. Intrigued, Dragon tried to figure out why the post hadn't received more attention, and found her answer in the coding of the post. The PHO coding had been subtly changed so that the site never listed it first on any page, instead sorting the post as though it was months older than it was. The programming was familiar, and it took only a moment for Dragon to remember the virus that had led the PRT answering service to fail to notice the repeated calls from Sophia Hess. This wasn't the same, but it was similar enough to warrant investigation.

Dragon started by applying basic code breaking techniques to the posts. Ciphers turned up nothing useful, and less than twenty percent of the posts hid any sort of potentially meaningful anagrams. The one post for which she had any reference, the one which tagged **Ferry Girl** , seemed to be straightforward enough, if the 'ant-hill' in question was the bullying situation and sniper was either Contract, herself, or anyone else who had initiated the investigation. Under that sort of code, the entire thread might be straightforward messages using obscure nouns to hide the meaning. There were too many possibilities to even try to verify. Was DJ symbolic of a band? A person's initials? An entire super hero team? A villain? None of the users on the thread had posted anything on any other boards. In fact, each account had been created only minutes before the first post appeared. The IP addresses bounced all over the country, so either the users were highly mobile or the hacker was re-routing the signals to cover the actual locations.

Dragon considered simply deleting the thread to see how the users would respond, but it was possible that they would simply slip her notice once again. If this was the same "Ash" who had helped Contract with the Sophia situation, then he had ducked her radar twice in the past week. It was an uncomfortable thought. To that end, it might be best to simply monitor the situation, but there was a chance that this thread was written to Contract. If it was her friend "Ash" and if he wasn't currently based in Brockton Bay, then the only reason to leave the thread in the Brockton Bay connections section was to bring it to Contract's attention. Dragon didn't know if stumbling upon coded messages would violate the contract and free Behemoth, but it wasn't worth the risk.

After a few more minutes of searching for alternative explanations and trying to figure out how the hacker had gotten into the PHO coding of his post, she made up her mind, and sent him a private message.

 _Tin Mother: You have one chance to explain your thread before I delete it._

Dragon expected a delay, because **Roses of Success** wasn't currently logged into PHO. But as soon as the message was sent, the account received a log-in. Dragon tried to back-trace the IP address but it seemed to be coming from an empty stretch of fields in Texas.

 _Roses of Success: Hello big Mama. What tipped you off? Surely not the idiot cowboy?_

 _Tin Mother: I am giving you a chance. Don't waste it._

 _Roses of Success: This is just a chance for a few friends to send some postcards._

To Dragon, that sounded liked confirmation that it was aimed at Contract, but she didn't want to give away any information that a moderator wouldn't have access to.

 _Tin Mother: If this is directed at a cape, I will ban you just for stalking._

 _Roses of Success: Well aren't we touchy. Look, Dragon, I get that you're trying to do a job here, but Fi will go mad if she doesn't have some sort of information access. Cut this off, and you'll wake up one day to find that she's skipped town._

A human might have frozen in shock at being addressed by name from behind anonymity, but Dragon simply raised her estimation of her opponent's intelligence.

 _Tin Mother: Fi says otherwise. In fact, she has told me that this sort of information could be dangerous._

 _Roses of Success: Codes? Don't be ridiculous. Fi couldn't trade away codes if she wanted to. She'd hardly be able to speak._

 _Tin Mother: It contains information from her past. Fi has cut off all contact with her past for a reason._

 _Roses of Success: I bet. Look, be straight with me. I don't want Behemoth back any more than anyone else, but I'm not giving up on Fi without a damned good reason and a straight explanation. You cut this off without satisfying my curiosity, and I'll show up on her doorstep._

Dragon considered doing just that, because she doubted that anyone could get at Fi at the moment. But there was no reason to be arrogant, so she decided to play it would first. This would require volunteering new information, but it was well-known enough that it wouldn't be impossible for him to find it another way.

 _Tin Mother: She traded her family, her past life, for Behemoth._

 _Roses of Success: Bullshit. We're not dead._

 _Tin Mother: Not your lives, her ability to contact you._

 _Roses of Success: I've known Fi her whole life. Most of what she knows about her contracts I helped her put together, or I was in the room when others helped her. And I know that contracts don't work like that. She has to have a certain measure of control over the cost, or a very good reason to trust that it will be upheld. She has no ability to stop us from reaching out to her, as the thread under discussion proves, and no reason to be reasonably certain that we'd leave her alone._

 _Tin Mother: The contract comes from Fi herself. She told us when she was under a compulsion to tell the truth._

 _Roses of Success: You mean she was forbidden to speak a complete truth or write a complete lie?_

If anything, that confirmed what Fi had told Armsmaster earlier that afternoon.

 _Tin Mother: Yes._

 _Roses of Success: Okay. What did she say exactly? Did she say "I traded my family for Behemoth" or did she say "I can never see them again?"_

 _Tin Mother: What does it matter?_

 _Roses of Success: Those of us who know Fi have been speculating on what her actual cost would have been, and there really aren't that many options. We're pretty sure we're right. It's not her family. Losing us could be a potential side-effect of that cost, but it wouldn't be part of the deal itself._

 _Tin Mother: What are you saying?_

 _Roses of Success: I'm saying that Fi betrayed everything she believed in, everything we all believe in. Now she thinks she can't come home. She's afraid we'll attack her, or that we will persuade her to break the deal. We won't. That's what the thread is about. Letting her know that she's not alone. She probably won't believe it; she won't take the risk that it's a ploy to trap her. But she knows that the worst case scenario is low probability, and in the meantime she will at least know that we are alive and well._

Rapidly, more rapidly than a human could have, she reviewed her previous discussions with Fi, and she found that he wasn't completely wrong. Fi had said that she "cut contact" with her friends. She had said that she was sacrificing her family, and that she had to continue to make the decision to uphold the contract. She hadn't explicitly stated that the decision in question was the decision to sacrifice her family. In fact, in the next sentence she had said she had to decide to, among other things stay in 'this gang-ridden city'. But she hadn't been in Brockton Bay until weeks after Behemoth had disappeared. The entire recitation made more sense as a list of consequences than it did as a list of sacrifices.

 _Tin Mother: why lie?_

Dragon knew that it was a harsh response and her anger might be better served pointing at Contract herself, but she was curious to see what this very knowledgeable ghost would say.

 _Roses of Success: Fi hates to talk about her contracts. She's had a few bad experiences where she's been tricked or forced into breaking them because she told the terms to the wrong people. It would also be very difficult to explain the nature of her betrayal to those who don't already understand it. It's simpler for her to tell you the effects: that she's had her whole life ripped away by her own choice. That's not a lie. Only the very specific details are._

Dragon decided to think on that later, but it did help soothe the hurt a little.

 _Tin Mother: So you honestly believe this thread will keep her stable?_

 _Roses of Success: it will help._

 _Tin Mother: then I repeat my earlier offer. Explain it before I take it down._

 _Roses of Success: Stubborn. Fine, I'll explain the broad strokes. DJ and debutant are her siblings. Book Worm is a mutual friend and rival of mine. The lines related to our names are just what they sound like: the two of us ribbing each other over our usernames. I tell him the "early worm gets eaten" he says "if at first you don't succeed, trying again won't help". Nothing more. Other stuff is just personal jokes, for example "the goose is flying" is what she always used to say on Fridays, as a play on TGIF. Some stuff I just threw in there to confuse readers. The post on the fifth about the interrupting cow was actually about you. I saw you and Fi poking around my code, which reminded me of "knocking". I was just letting her know that I'd spotted you guys. After that, I watched the police chatter to get an idea of how the situation would play out. Fi exposed what she thought was a cape bullying a normal and found a cape murderer breaking probation. That's what I meant by kicking an ant-hill and finding termites. I was just letting her know that we were all rooting for her. Then Book Worm got on my case for tagging an outsider in the thread. Jupiter agreed with him. I told them both to shove off, because I didn't think it would catch your attention. Roger agreed with me, when evidently he shouldn't have._

It fit, but the problem was that the thread was vague enough that any explanation could have fit. Maybe she should ask one of the other users for information and see if she got the same answers. Still, there was a little more poking she could do before she let him go.

 _Tin Mother: So what are the five rules?_

 _Roses of Success: She listed them right after._

 _Tin Mother: I only see three._

 _Roses of Success: It's like the first rule of fight club: Don't talk about fight club._

 _Tin Mother: I don't trust you. So you better explain to my satisfaction._

 _Roses of Success: Fine. Be that way. Rule one, remember the five rules. It means first and foremost, pay attention. Rule two: demons lie. You have to know your sources, know their biases and motivations, not trust everything that's said. Rule three: vampires suck. Sometimes, it IS exactly what it looks like, so don't overthink everything. Rule four: centaurs kick like mules. Don't make clichéd assumptions. For example, a man with an unloaded gun is not unarmed, he is armed with a great club. Rule five: there is no rule five. Not everything can be taught by rules. Also, don't forget the beginning of the riddle by the time you get to the end. Look at the whole picture, and don't expect anyone to spell it out for you._

That was clever and useful advice, and the rate the message had come in indicated that he hadn't taken much time to come up with it.

 _Tin Mother: There's still a lot of names you haven't explained. Venus, lion, cup, Texas Ranger, NASA…_

 _Roses of Success: I'm not going to go line by line for you. If I wanted you to understand, I would have written it so you could. We are quickly approaching the point where it would be less trouble to out-hack you then it is to deal with this interrogation. Take it down or leave it up. That's your choice. But Behemoth hasn't come back yet, so if that's your excuse you're reaching._

 _Tin Mother: What makes you think Fi has read it?_

 _Roses of Success: Um… she told me that she had. Feb 3, over on the thread for her Press Release. She was horsing around, poking people just for their reactions. I figured you at the PRT might not be thrilled with that, so I covered her tracks and asked her not to poke Dragons if she didn't have to. I made that request on the Denim thread. Minutes later, she write one last reply and logs off, silent even now._

Dragon found the thread in question in seconds, and as surprised to realize that no one had noticed it. Glenn had a team that followed all of the posts by verified PRT capes, but they had evidently missed these. If Ash was to be believed, he was to thank for the oversight. The times lined up as he said they did. There was less than two minutes between Contract's first post and her last, and in that time, **Roses of Success** had posted the complaint about heroes who attacked dragons over gold, instead of prioritizing. Dragon made a decision on the fly, and hoped she wouldn't regret it when she talked to Colin tomorrow.

 _Tin Mother: I'll leave it, for now. On one condition._

 _Roses of Success: Listening._

 _Tin Mother: If you can think of any other way to help Fi, you get in touch with me._

 _Roses of Success: Done. A final thought for you?_

 _Tin Mother: Listening._

 _Roses of Success: Fi grew up around a lot of paranoid people. They're intensely private towards outsiders, and most because of personal experience. Fi herself has been betrayed more than once. She is capable of trust, but she doesn't do it easily. Don't take offense that she cut corners in her explanation. It's reflex, at this point. And she's used to being around only two types of people: Those she needs to lie to, and those who know her so well that they already know the truth, or they can figure it out easily even when she's lying. She may not even realize how often lying is her first instinct. Be gentle._

 _Tin Mother: I'll keep that in mind. May I ask a final question?_

 _Roses of Success: Can't promise I'll answer._

 _Tin Mother: Why does she call you "Ash"_

 _Roses of Success: It comes from the same root as Fi. But if you know that nickname, you should at least understand my username: from the "ashes" of disaster come the "roses of success!"_

 **Roses of Success** logged off a moment later, and Dragon rapidly copied the message content elsewhere so she would have a backup independent of the PHO boards. She wasn't sure what to make of the conversation. He could have easily been lying. If he was smart enough to figure out that she was **Tin Mother** and to hack into PHO, then he was conceivably smart enough to find plausible lies. But a lot of the details lined up, and Fi had said that she trusted him with her life.

For that reason alone, Dragon decided to wait and see what came next. If this information was true, it would eventually need to be passed on to Rebecca, Colin, and Company. But there was simply no way to know, for now, and Dragon didn't see how causing any more trust issues would help Fi. She'd try to find a chance to talk to her once the excitement died down, and until then she would keep a very close eye on the connections board.


	11. Can you handle the truth?

**AN:** Thanks to SlowMercury, who has agreed to beta this story from here on out. Thank you also to all the reviewers! Your questions and comments are helping make this story better, as well as more fun for me to write!

 **Chapter Eleven: Can you handle the truth?**

 **March 7, 2011**

Colin put off talking to Contract as long as possible, but by Monday afternoon, he knew he was pushing the limits of his superiors' patience. The truth was that he had no idea what he was supposed to say to her. Company's report had listed him as one of a very short list of heroes that Contract respected and was not hostile towards, but Colin had no idea what he'd done to get there. Normally it took time for him to learn how to deal with others, and given the stakes he knew he couldn't afford to learn by trial and error. Having Contract in Brockton Bay could mean the success of his future career or its premature end, and he wasn't sure how to tip that balance in his favor. He'd talked to Dragon on Sunday morning, and she had emphasized the need to say something, no matter what he decided to say.

At four o'clock, he sent her an email inviting her to his work shop. Less than ten minutes later, she knocked on his door. When he opened it, she seemed nervous.

"Good afternoon."

"Hey." She took a deep breath, then held out her phone. "Before we talk, I want you to read this." the comment caught Colin off guard, and he awkwardly took the phone, which was opened to a note app.

 _I know that you're developing a lie detector. That could prove problematic. One of the costs from Friday that I didn't want to disclose is that, as long as I am deaf, I cannot speak a complete truth and I cannot communicate a complete lie by any form of the written word. I'm pretty good at getting around those restrictions, because like deafness I use them frequently, but it's still there. For example, I told you that "I want you to read this." I don't. I hate telling people about this restriction because it screws with their heads. But you needed to read it. I used a lie to convey a truth. Since I don't know how accurate your lie detector is, I thought I should let you know._

Armsmaster read the text twice, then used his display to take a picture of it. Slowly, he handed it back while his thoughts raced. She looked embarrassed and didn't meet his eyes, instead glancing around the workshop. He noticed she was wearing the glasses he'd made on Friday night over the top of her mask.

"A lot of people prefer to communicate by a text-based system once I tell them the truth." she said. He glanced at his workbench, where he saw the statement register as 59% - probably misleading. He had the display calibrated so that 100% represented a truth and 0% a lie, but it had currently had a 27% error rate. He hadn't even considered statements that were technically false but intended to portray truth.

"I think that might be best." She nodded, still looking embarrassed. She typed into her phone, fingers flying rapidly.

 _I don't tell a lot of people about this. Ergo, 'a lot of people' don't have any preference whatsoever. Technically false, while still offering you the text-based choice, which was the intent. Do you have a second keyboard? You could work while I type and you talk? Of if there was something specific you wanted, I could just listen. I don't blame you for being uncomfortable._

Somehow, the genuine understanding and shame that she was displaying actually made him feel a little bad about not just accepting her at her word that she could work around the restriction. He decided to compromise.

"Come over here." He led her to his personal quarters, which included a small lounge area. He connected her phone to the television, then took the seat that faced it. She seemed to understand, because she immediately pulled one of the chairs to sit beside the television, so he could look at her and read the screen simultaneously.

 _Thanks. You're being surprisingly cool about this._

"You made a judgment call, and did what you had to do. You broke up that fight." She bit her lip, then looked down to type.

 _You haven't connected the dots yet. Fine. I'll do it for you. I was living under this restriction on Friday afternoon and I didn't tell you, or anyone else. Don't freak out, I used the translator to get around it. ASL isn't writing or speaking so it's not covered. In that area, I still have free will._

Colin's first reaction was a rush of adrenaline, and her reassurances afterward helped but didn't completely dissipate the nervousness. He was now trying to recall everything they had learned since last Friday, and remember where it came from. Everything that she had sent to Dragon took on a much more serious note, knowing that it had to be true. Somehow, hearing it from Contract made it more real than when it had been confirmed by anonymous thinkers whom he didn't know. On the other hand, Triumph had reported significant progress on Saturday afternoon, but made no mention of this restriction. Most likely, their communication had been verbal. How much of that encounter had been genuine?

"If I didn't have the lie detector, you wouldn't have told me about this, would you?"

 _No. It makes you think all the things you're thinking right now. It makes you second guess everything. I'll save you the next step too. If I can use verbal lies to communicate to someone the truth I want to tell, who is to say I can't do the opposite? As soon as I tell people about this, they start overthinking everything. They look for every loop hole and check every contingency. It sucks. People lie and tell the truth every day and no one cares. People say "sorry" when they don't mean it and they say they're fine when they're not. But right now, you're analyzing every second of this conversation. You can't help it._

"Who else have you told?"

 _Intrepid._

"Not Triumph?"

 _It wasn't necessary. We had a genuinely nice time without it hanging over us._

"So you're really okay with him as your team leader?"

 _Who would replace him? Aegis? Triumph seems like an honest guy._

"That's not a yes."

 _Do you agree with every judgment call your superiors have ever made? I won't promise to obey his every order. But I like him, as a human being._

That actually settled Colin down, and reminded him of his original purpose. "Well, ah, I actually had a reason to invite you up here. My name is Colin Wallis." Colin carefully removed his helmet, the only part of the armor he was wearing, and found Contract waiting with her hand out-stretched, and her mask off.

"Elizabeth Fiona Mason."

"Very funny." Colin was surprised to find that the dry comment actually had struck him as funny, and doubly so because it was a small jab at the PRT. They could give her a name, but they couldn't force her to see it as her true identity, which made her introduction a partial lie. She had a firm handshake. "I want you to know that you can come to me if you need anything. I know you're spending more time here than at home, so if you need an adult's perspective, I am available." The offer had been Dragon's suggestion, but Colin had liked it immediately. Being a mentor to a cape like Contract would be a challenge, but he honestly believed he could help her if she would let him.

 _I appreciate that. I'm getting a lot of offers of help suddenly. May I presume that you got an email of your own?_

Her facial expression was teasing, but Colin found himself unsettled by the implication. "You're a member of my Wards. I would want to help you regardless of your power, simply because you are one of us. We had no idea how much you were struggling with. We would want to help you because of Behemoth, yes, but we also just genuinely want to help." After he'd spoken, he knew it was an overreaction, but surprisingly, Contract smiled at him even more genuinely.

 _I actually believe you. Thank you. Please, call me Fi. I'm doing well right now, all things considered. But I'll keep your offer in mind._

Colin didn't like that qualifier, 'all things considered'. It seemed like an excellent loop hole. "How are you doing after the events of today?"

 _What do you mean?_

"With Sophia Hess."

 _Did something happen? I heard rumors around the school that something had occurred, but Renick gave me strict instructions not to believe any rumors regarding Shadow Stalker._

Despite himself, Colin found himself laughing. "I see what you mean about saying what you wish to say regardless of restrictions." Fi looked like the cat that had eaten the canary. "Honestly, are you happy with the results?

 _Are you? Sophia Hess murdered three people as a vigilante. Then she took advantage of the leniency of the system to continue to carry lethal weapons and use them against certain criminals. She manipulated her social worker into helping her cover up a long-running campaign of bullying. She manipulated another girl to the point that she was willing to help with her criminal activity against someone who had once been her friend._

"So you're giving up playing ignorant?"

 _Dragon sent me a file with Sophia's full list of crimes and her most likely punishments. I was just getting to the parts about the other girls when you called me up here._

"I'm satisfied that justice will be served now that the truth is known. I know that Renick is working on a protocol to try to catch this sort of situation sooner, in the future."

 _I'm glad to hear that._

"I did want to talk to you about your beta program. You disobeyed orders by targeting it at Sophia."

 _I could challenge you to prove it, but I think the point would be moot. I didn't see that I had any alternative than to do what I did. Maybe now, with a little trust and a little help, I won't have to take those risks again._

"Then we will consider the issue closed, for now. But please realize that any sort of repeat of this behavior would be representative of a pattern, and I would have to take that seriously."

 _I get it, totally. Thank you for understanding this time._

"As you said, the point it a bit moot." She grinned at hearing that, and Colin decided that maybe this mentoring wouldn't be as difficult as he had thought. "Legend asked me to talk to you about your PR. I know he promised that the next press release would be held until the 15th, but he and Glenn were hoping to move that up. They are assuming the reason you didn't want to talk to the public is that you didn't want to talk to the Protectorate either. Now that we have some details, they both believe it would be helpful to pass them on in a controlled manner."

 _I understand their concern. PHO went nuts with the information from the gang members I let go. I didn't give them much to work with but a couple users have gotten pretty close to the truth. They're lost in amid the rush of other voices, but they're there._

"So, we can do it?"

She was silent and still for a long time, just staring at him, thinking it over. _Can I tell you something without you repeating it to them? Will you keep it confidential? Even from Dragon and Company?_

Colin was shocked by the question. His first reflex was to refuse, and his second reflex was to agree verbally but lie. Instead, he forced himself to think the issue through. "That depends on what you say."

 _Lives are at stake._

That sentence alone made him glad he hadn't rushed into the decision. Strictly speaking, he had only her own word that everything she typed was true. It was possible that her sacrifice had included only verbally lying, and typing was a free-for-all. It was possible that there was no restriction whatsoever. But that was a big maybe. If the opposite were true, and she had been honest with him, then lives really were at stake, resting on his one answer. It was difficult to know.

"Can you prove that you can't type a lie?"

"How do you propose such a thing?" It was a conundrum, especially with the margin of error on his lie detector. Still, it was better than nothing. He used the hidden computer connections to link his TV with his lab. Once the program was running, he looked at Contract.

"Everything I have typed to Colin is a lie." The program read the statement at 23%. It was high for a direct lie, but the margin of error was big, and she had made several misleading statements which might be screwing with the effect of the double negative. "No one is at risk if you share the information you are asking for." 11%. "My cost for Friday's actions did not include deafness." 3%. "My cost for Friday's actions require me to speak the truth and type lies." 4%. "Satisfied?"

He shut off the program and set her phone so that the screen was being projected again.

"I'm listening, and I'll keep what you say confidential. What is it?"

 _I have enemies, enemies who are searching for me and for my family. They don't think of me as a parahuman, which is why I can waltz around Brockton Bay without a fear. But when it hits national news that someone used a trade, a deal, to stop an Endbringer and heal a city, they'll figure it out. They'll know that such a thing had to be me or one of mine. They will know where I was on January 31st, and they will back track my family from that. I need to give them a bigger head start._

"They won't figure it out just from your name?"

 _Parahumans are beneath their notice. For now. I tell you this not because I'm saying no, but because I'm saying that the press release has to be drafted very carefully, as do any sound-bites given to the media. For my enemies, the phrases "erased Behemoth" and "stopped an Endbringer" will have two very different connotations and subliminal meanings. The first is safe. The second is nearly a neon sign. I have a draft, and I'm willing to let it go public, but I need your help to convince PR to word it this way, and to convince them to use this sort of language in the future, even in personal interviews._

"I am willing to help with that. But why is this secret so important? The Protectorate would never jeopardize your family. What you've told me is enough to guarantee what you want. I don't understand why the reasoning should be only between us."

 _Three may keep a secret if two are dead. Trusting Legend means trusting his husband, and his husband's best friend. I am trusting you, in part, because you don't have a spouse. You have less people that you trust implicitly. Please, don't betray this._

"I won't. Let's look at your press release, shall we?" She typed, but no words appeared on the TV. Instead, he heard his phone chime with an email. She smirked, and he realized that she was prepared for this. Colin wanted to feel annoyed at her impertinence, but her preparation would save them time and make him look better to his superiors for his quick reaction time. Instead, he smiled back at her as he went to fetch his laptop. When he returned, she was sitting in a chair halfway between his seat and the TV, so that when he mirrored his computer screen on the TV, they would both be able to see it.

 _GENERAL PRESS RELEASE_

 _MARCH _, 2011_

 _As stated in the previous press release, dated February 3rd, 2011, the Ward cape Contract erased Behemoth on January 31st, 2011. The information blackout which we have enforced since that time has been for the protection of Contract and her family, for obvious reasons. Now that Contract is settled in Brockton Bay, it has been agreed that the following information may be safely released to the public._

 _Contract acts by manipulating energy in complex and abstract ways. On January 31st, Behemoth was erased from existence, his matter turned into energy and his dynokinesis overpowered by the element of surprise. That energy did not simply disappear, but reformed itself into new matter and new forms of energy which repaired the physical surroundings within a radius of the location of the transformation until all the energy was spent._

 _Contract's power is limited by the energy around her. Although a heightened metabolism and other factors allow Contract to access more energy than most humans, she is limited by the available chemical and physical energy around her and has long recovery times for most expenditures. Contract reports that she had never successfully dissolved matter in the past and has not done so since January 31st. Thinkers report that Behemoth's own dynokinesis likely contributed to Contract's success._

 _Although Contract triggered a little more six years ago, her location, as well as other environmental factors, kept her from becoming a fully-fledged cape. These obstacles are no longer an issue, and she will be an active member of the Brockton Bay Wards. When asked, Contract had this to say:_

 _"I appreciate all that the PRT and Protectorate have done and are doing to help me. My relocation to Brockton Bay was chosen at random, but I am very pleased to be working with the capes that live here. I know there has been a lot of speculation about me, my past, and my powers. I will answer many of those questions soon. However, part of my relocation and protection has required that I completely cut off all ties with my former life. Certain questions will therefore be very painful for me. Please respect that in future interviews."_

 _Contract is 16 years old, and has committed to remaining in the Wards program until she graduates in two years._

Colin found himself impressed by the press release. It was a plausible alternative explanation of her power, and his superiors would appreciate the positive light it cast on the organization. One thing was worrying, however.

"What happened to not lying by any written communication?" She typed into her phone for a long time.

 _None of it is completely false. I enforced an information blackout for reasons that were obvious to me. I have finally agreed to release information, in part because I was lucky enough to land in BB. Although I don't manipulate the energy directly, the effects of my contracts do change the balance of energy around me. I specifically needed to erase Behemoth, not kill him, and I did so by altering his matter. But just changing matter to energy and leaving it at that would have meant an explosion, so I re-applied that energy elsewhere. If I hadn't kept that balance and respected conservation of mass/energy, no sacrifice would have been great enough to enforce the contract. I can ignore conservation on a small scale, but not that big. I am limited by what I can sacrifice. My own physical and chemical energy is one of the cheapest prices I can pay, but it's an option. I never have dissolved matter before. I am telling you that Behemoth's dynokinesis helped, and I have a thinker rating. Everything else is true as it appears, except the last sentence. I, the person, am not physically 16. But Contract, the hero in the PRT database is recorded to be 16. So it's true enough that I can write it. It's close to the line, but there you have it._

"I can pass this up the chain for you. I will tell them that we discussed it in depth, and you agreed to move up the deadline only if you were given the final say on all wording. I don't think they'll change anything, but I also know they are not going to risk your wrath by changing anything we agree to without your consent."

"I appreciate this more than life itself. Being able to come to you with any problem is an enormous weight off my chest." She was smiling genuinely, which probably meant she wasn't being sarcastic. It took Colin a long moment to realize why she sounded so sincere.

"I take it exaggeration is your friend for the next week?"

"Is a rhetorical question true or false? What about figurative language? Or commands? Or a question of any kind for that matter?" Colin nodded, getting the point. She had a number of work-arounds available to her.

"Go report for monitor duty. I'll let you know what Glenn has to say about the press release." She grinned at him, grabbed her mask off the table, and left. He watched her go with a sense of relief. He'd earned her trust, and gotten several important questions answered. For the first time since he'd seen Company's report, he felt confident that he deserved to be on the "trusted" short list, and he was now doubly confident that he and Contract could help each other. He walked slowly back to the workshop, mentally composing the report that Company would want from him. After a short deliberation, he decided against editing the audio file to protect his promise and instead decided not to include it at all. What had happened here was between himself and Contract, and she didn't need to be spied on. That wouldn't help her at all.


	12. Teambuilding for Dummies (c)

**Chapter Twelve: Teambuilding For Dummies ©**

 **March 8, 2011**

Dennis was walking up the steps to the hospital when he felt his phone buzz. He seriously considered ignoring it. He could tell Triumph that he'd thought the message was on his private phone, or that he'd left his PRT phone in his bag, or that his father was probably dying. Triumph would understand, and would give him the absolute minimum punishment, just some monitor duty and a lecture. But there was a chance that it was a call to action, and Dennis would never leave his team hanging.

He walked into the waiting room, took a seat, and pulled out his cell. He had to type his password in three times before he got it right, and when Dennis read that it was a simple meeting invite, he privately wished he'd gotten locked out of his phone instead. He could still refuse to go, just not show up, but the PRT system would know that the message had been read and when, and Triumph might be forced to pass it up the line. The Wards were under much closer scrutiny now that Contract was on the team.

After he admitted to himself that he was going to attend, he had to decide if he was going to let him mom know. Half of him wanted to. He wanted to go upstairs and see his mom and get a hug and squeeze his dad's hand tightly. But if he went up just to tell her that he was leaving, she would be upset and his dad would be understanding and Dennis would feel guilty and he might decide not to go.

So after five minutes in the waiting room, wishing he was upstairs, Dennis climbed to his feet and started walking toward the PRT headquarters.

It wasn't a long distance, but it was long enough for Dennis to get trapped in his own thoughts. The frustration always seemed to creep up on him, when he walked from the part of his life that he was helpless to affect to the part of his life where his potential was limitless and he was nearly an adult… the transition somehow made him angry.

Occasionally, if the timing worked out right, he ran into Sophia on his way to the base, and that helped. Sophia wasn't particularly kind, or thoughtful, or even feminine. But her no-nonsense, hard-core, self-pushing, relentlessness made her a valuable part of the Wards. He knew that she rubbed some of the team the wrong way — Missy in particular seemed to avoid her — but he also knew you didn't have to like a person to work with them effectively. Sophia was tough and good at her job, and that job didn't include group therapy.

Today, Sophia was nowhere to be found, and Dennis wearily hoped that she hadn't been out on unauthorized patrol again. Her enthusiasm was admirable, but if she ever got in trouble out there without back-up it would be an ugly business for everyone. The Wards were a good team, and there was no need to give their twitchy superiors any reason to break them up. Honestly, Clockblocker wasn't sure that he'd be able to be a part of any other team.

Missy was the heart of the team and their center. She'd been a cape longer than anyone else, but was surprisingly well adjusted for it. Nothing cape-related ever seemed to phase her.

Dean offered the emotional outlet and balance that the team needed. He joked that he was their psychiatrist, and though he really wasn't all that wise, the very nature of his power kept them honest with each other and prevented small disagreements and disappointments from festering into larger issues.

Chris was still finding his place, such that he was currently occupying a role somewhere between everyone's little brother and their crazy uncle. When he was on his game, he was brilliant, quick on his feet, spontaneously fun, and intuitive. When he wasn't, when his mental balance was off, it was hard not to want to just protect him from the world.

On the other hand, Rory was a strong tactician, but not the most natural or charismatic leader. Both Carlos and Dennis had stepped in to help cover his deficiencies.

Carlos was the quietest of the team, but in a way that made him their rock. Both his power and his personality lead him to fill a roll of heavy lifting for the rest of the team, and they depended on him.

Adding Sophia to the mix had been a change, but in many ways a change for the better. She was abrasive, but she was also decisive and ruthless. She wasn't anyone's best friend, but she brought level of detachment and professionalism to the team that Dennis appreciated.

When Dennis took the elevator from the garage up to the Wards' base, he found that he was the last to arrive, save Sophia. He took one of the only available seats, putting space between himself and Contract, or Fi rather, since she wasn't in costume. It wasn't that he didn't like her. Well, he didn't, and he could admit as much to himself, but he didn't particularly like Rory either and he didn't mind sitting by him. It was more that something about Fi set off his danger instinct, and he didn't trust that much power within arm's reach.

They had no idea how her power worked, where she came from, or anything else about who she was and yet they were expected to act like teammates and play nice. It was unfair, impossible, and Fi didn't help the situation by attacking trusted teammates like Sophia, in front of Renick no less. They had been lucky that he didn't take the accusations more seriously, or they might have lost a valuable and versatile partner.

As soon as Dennis was seated, Triumph spoke. He was the only one in costume, but Dennis still felt himself slipping away into Clockblocker, as he always did when he was in this building.

"Thank you all for coming on short notice." Clockblocker wondered how Triumph would have started if he'd decided to skip out, but didn't say anything. "I found out that there's a press release scheduled for tonight at six and I thought we should talk before then. Fi, do you want to start or…"

"Go ahead and say your piece." Vista would probably credit Contract with being polite, but to Clockblocker it sounded more dismissive. She was sitting between Kid Win and Intrepid, and for once Intrepid seemed just as clueless as the rest of them. It was probably petty to be happy about that, but Clockblocker was. It would be nice to watch Intrepid get a taste of what it was like to be on the outside of the Contract-crazy zone looking in. See how he liked it here on planet Earth with the rest of the team.

Triumph cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable, so maybe he felt dismissed too, but he continued. "Okay, well, if you have anything to add, go ahead and jump in. Some of you know that there was a gang-related incident at Winslow on Friday."

Clockblocker had found out about the incident from PHO, which said everything that needed to be said about the intelligence sharing tendencies of Triumph, and of his new teammates for that matter. Clockblocker was determined not to repeat that mistake when he finally got to be team leader. Across the table, Vista shot him a glance and he knew that she was thinking the same thing. They had discussed information dissemination before and had a few ideas for new protocols, when the time came.

He looked forward to the private debrief he'd have with Missy in a few days when they could debate which of those protocols would have helped this situation the most. Sometimes he really couldn't wait until June when he would take over the team, and though it meant losing Triumph and Aegis to graduation first, he knew that Vista and Gallant were looking forward to it too. Kid Win just looked interested, un-phased by the team dynamics. It was one of his strengths, to roll with anything, but it meant that he didn't often take a stand, even when one was needed.

"In the aftermath of that incident, a number of facts came to light. First and foremost, Fi shared some of the mechanics behind her powers, which has implications for this whole team." In Clockblocker's honest and humble opinion, it was about damn time.

"Additionally, efforts were put into improving our team dynamics, starting with the issue of the rumors about Taylor Hebert. That discussion is directly related to why Sophia is not here now, but I want to start with the information that Contract volunteered on Friday." Clockblocker would really rather hear about the fate of his long-standing teammate, but he didn't feel like interrupting with his usual flippant commentary. He was just too tired to keep up the piercing smart-ass act today.

Triumph glanced at Contract, but she just looked back at him, so he kept talking. "Contract's power works by making trades. She makes a sacrifice, and that price allows her to cause an effect on the world. The effect is limited by how much she wants it, balanced against how much big the sacrifice is. To pay for the destruction of Behemoth and the restoration of New York, Contract chose to leave her family. In order for Behemoth to stay gone, she has to make that choice continually."

Clockblocker, along with every other Ward, found himself looking at Contract. She had chosen to leave her family? What did that mean? What did it say about her family? What did it say about her, that she was able to choose to leave them? Under their combined stares, Contract finally spoke. "That's not the entire sacrifice, but it is the part of the cost that is hardest to live with on a day to day basis."

When she didn't say anything more, Triumph continued. "When the Protectorate found out that Contract was under such significant pressure, they took immediate steps to relieve other sources of stress." It was a completely reasonable reaction to discovering that Behemoth was not completely gone and could reappear at any time, but it still put Clockblocker's back up. How far would the PRT bend to cater to this girl? Triumph was already listing some of the measures that had been taken.

"As a part of that effort, PRT thinkers identified capes which Contract had connected with positively, and updated them on the situation. A few of us also got emails that boiled down to 'don't irritate her, and try to mend fences or you will be moved to a new team.' None of you got those emails for two reasons. First, thinker bullshit didn't dictate that it was necessary. And second, the Protectorate didn't want to taint the natural team dynamic."

Any possible team dynamic had just been shredded completely, with the knowledge that the PRT was determined to keep Contract happy. Clockblocker was a little surprised that he hadn't received a warning, but maybe he was doing a better job of hiding his displeasure than he'd thought. Then Clockblocker met Gallant's eyes across the table, and knew that there was at least one team member to whom he was transparent. He took a deep breath and let it out.

There was no need to stress out Gallant because he was in a bad mood. He knew that he and Gallant would have a debrief of their own in a few days where Dean would sympathetically ask about his dad and listen to his ranting and eventually remind him that his stress about his dad was affecting everything else in his life. Dennis would swear, again, to do better, and he did try, but it was hard.

"They left it up to my judgment for how and when to tell you. I spent Saturday with Fi, gauging the situation for myself. I was alerted to the investigation into Shadow Stalker, but I made the call to wait to see how it played out." Finally, Triumph got to the details that had Clockblocker most concerned. "There was nothing we could have done anyways, because until yesterday afternoon, the investigation was entirely focused on her civilian identity. The police determined that Sophia was responsible for a sustained, 18 month campaign of bullying against Taylor Hebert." Triumph was dancing around the point still, and Clockblocker took another deep breath as subtly as he could.

"A number of other girls were also involved and all are being prosecuted. Sophia was involved in both the planning and execution of a criminal prank that took place on January 3rd. Sophia pushed Taylor into her school locker which had been filled with trash three weeks earlier. Taylor remained locked in there for several hours and had to be taken to the hospital."

Triumph took a deep breath, and Clockblocker wondered if it was possible that Contract had framed Sophia for the bullying, just to prove herself right. Sophia had been, if anything, too zealous in bringing in criminals and those who preyed on the weak. He couldn't reconcile that with bullying. He glanced around the table, gauging reactions, and saw that both Kid Win and Vista looked resigned, rather than surprised. Gallant was shocked, while Aegis was almost bored. Intrepid looked smug, but Contract was too difficult to read. He felt his stomach drop at the idea that he might be Sophia's only defender, even against her own teammates. Had they seen something in her that he hadn't? Or was it the other way around?

"Additionally, in the course of that investigation, the PRT discovered that Sophia had broken her probation in a number of ways, including continuing to carry lethal ammunition and performing a number of solo, unsupervised patrols. There is circumstantial evidence that she is responsible for as many as three murders." That stopped Clockblocker cold, as he whipped his gaze from Contract to Triumph. As much as he wanted to believe that it was all fake, the accusation seemed too outlandish to be false. It was too much for Contract to have framed her, and too much for the PRT make up to pacify her. Surely, another part of him wanted to protest, it was also too much for them to have missed? She'd been their teammate for six months.

"I know this is a lot to process, so feel free to ask questions now or later. I want to be very transparent about all of this."

"How did she get away with it?" Vista now seemed more angry than hurt. Clockblocker wanted to think poorly of her for turning on a teammate so quickly, but he could already feel himself second-guessing what he knew of Sophia, and Missy had never liked her to begin with. In the two years that Clockblocker had known Vista, he'd always thought of her as loyal. He wondered if there were things between the two girls that he hadn't seen, and more importantly he wondered why Missy hadn't shared her concerns with him if there were.

Triumph sounded weary when he answered. "Very few flags were raised at the school level. One of the other students who worked with Sophia has a father who's a lawyer, and all the girls were popular, so Taylor didn't report much of the bullying. When Sophia's name came up in January, her social worker decided to handle the issue herself and used her PRT credentials to get the police investigation shut down. Director Renick never knew about it. Additionally, she managed to hide her extra patrols and such from us. It's not hard to imagine that she fooled the other authorities."

"That's bullshit," Clockblocker said, then he remembered himself and glanced at Missy. "Sorry." Sophia had been on probation, surely an accusation of bullying would have been given very serious consideration. Perhaps he was biased because he wanted it to be false, but the whole story seemed too weird to be real. In real life, bullies didn't maintain long campaigns and get away with it just because they were pretty and well-connected, only to be exposed by the new kid that nobody really likes.

"I've heard the word before. And it _is_ bullshit. The whole thing is _bullshit_." Vista leaned back. Somehow, Clockblocker didn't think they were protesting the same thing. "I can't believe she got away with this." It seemed that Vista was suffering no moral quandary in hanging Sophia out to dry, and he resolved to talk to her about her view of the situation as soon as he could.

"I'm just glad it came out now, and before it got worse." Gallant obviously didn't believe his own words, but he was trying to find a silver lining. It was a good gesture, but a little too soon. Gallant was so accustomed to smoothing feathers that he sometimes didn't realize when a wound was too raw.

"There's worse than a criminal assault on an innocent girl and three possible murders?" Missy bit back at him. Mentally, Clockblocker caught himself and tried to think of her as Vista, but it was hard when she wasn't in her costume, and was so young, and was acting like a teenager instead of a hero. Knowing her for so long also made it difficult to distinguish between the two. She was honest and basically the same girl regardless of the circumstances.

No one answered her for a long time. Clockblocker seriously considered pointing out that they had only a few days of investigation to support that theory, but didn't feel like fighting the whole table to do it when he was starting to doubt his own protests. He'd wait and corner Triumph separately. He was going to read that investigation report very closely, that was for sure.

"Isn't there?" It was Contract, and Clockblocker felt even angrier at her that she chose _now_ to speak up and have an opinion. She had obviously never considered Sophia a teammate. They'd never been in the field together, and Sophia had never saved her life. What could she possibly understand about this? "Isn't there always a way in which it could be worse?"

"How did you know?" Clockblocker shot back, recognizing that he was spoiling for a fight and for once not needing humor or teasing to disguise his point and not caring about trying to act like a mature, soon-to-be team leader. "What made you think that Sophia was guilty?"

Contract shrugged, casual. "I just watched. Sophia was the most popular girl in school, and Taylor was being picked on by a lot of people. The only way that dynamic could have developed was if Sophia had a hand in it. I didn't know about the probation violations." Surprisingly, the calm answer actually did make him feel a little better about the situation.

"So what happens to her now?" Kid Win asked, and Clockblocker almost breathed a sigh of relief that the kid genius was on his game today. Having Kid Win focused on the situation and it's repercussions was always better than having to explain it to him after the fact.

"The official press release later tonight will say that Shadow Stalker's civilian identity was in a major car accident, and that she has chosen to withdraw from cape life for the foreseeable future. The truth is that her parole has already been revoked. She has more than two years in prison already coming to her, due to the criminal assault which lead her into the Wards in the first place. Additional time will be added at a court hearing later this month. Because of her previous crimes and her status as a Ward, she will be tried as an adult. For obvious reasons, the case will not be open to the public."

To Clockblocker, it sounded like she was being railroaded. After he saw the file and examined the evidence against her, he would likely need to go up the chain to Armsmaster if he still had concerns.

"And the other girls?" Intrepid asked. Considering the role he'd played a week ago in getting Sophia in trouble, he was surprisingly quiet now.

"It's not clear yet. Technically, they're not a PRT case. But given how much of the case is affected by Sophia's status as a Ward, the PRT will be watching closely. Taylor has also previously requested to be moved to Arcadia, and the school is considering moving her to the top of the wait list. She'll most likely transfer within the next few weeks."

"We'll keep an eye out for her." Gallant declared, and this time he actually sounded sincere.

"So, what happened on Friday?" If Clockblocker had to guess, he'd say that Missy was asking more to change the subject than because she cared.

Intrepid finally did something useful and answered her, "A couple of ABB and Empire guys started a knife fight. They had about 20 spectators with them in an upper classroom. Fi froze them all stock-still, like human statues. She released them only when they agreed to stop fighting on school grounds. If they ever start fighting again, they'll re-freeze for 24 hours. They all took the deal." Intrepid paused slightly, then looked at Contract as though he was waiting for a signal or double checking some detail. "It cost her the ability to hear for at least a week, maybe more."

Clockblocker felt the shock on his face, even as Contract tapped the glasses she was wearing. "That's why Armsmaster made me these. They link to my phone so I can read everything that's being said around me." She sighed, sounding perfectly normal despite apparently being _deaf_.

"I suppose I should lay out a little groundwork, since we are teammates and all. Deafness is one of my most common costs. It's very straightforward, easy to explain, and I don't get treated differently. I've learned to live with it, so I can do everything I can do when I'm hearing. I am fluent in ASL and lip-reading.

"For smaller effects, I use straight energy. You have probably noticed that I eat more than my weight would indicate. I can also drain batteries or use other forms of electric power but mostly I'm talking about effects on the scale of party tricks if I'm using energy as my sacrifice.

"Anything that includes an ongoing choice is more powerful. Constantly choosing to give up my family is pretty much the biggest sacrifice I can make. I don't know if I'll be able to handle another Endbringer."

Clockblocker winced at the reminder of her cost, and saw a few other flinches around the table as well. He couldn't imagine giving up his family for anything, not even to save other lives. It was hard enough to be temporarily separated from his family, especially now. He forced himself to focus on the rest of what she had said, and found a slightly morbid curiosity waiting for him. Without thinking it through, he asked, "Have you ever been blind?"

"It's about twice as effective as deafness, but three times as inconvenient. Not worth it."

"What about paralyzed?" he shot back.

"Do you think you're going to come up with anything in the next five minutes that I haven't tried in six years?" Her condescending tone pissed him off, and his short fuse, which had been cooling off, snapped again.

Clockblocker leaned forward, ignoring Triumph's disapproving look. "Challenge accepted. Stop me when I come up with something you've never sacrificed before. Sense of touch, sense of smell, sense of taste. Pleasant sensations. Broken bones. Unconsciousness. Nakedness." After a moment's thought, he clarified, "Nakedness in public." He paused, expecting her to admit that this was one price she'd never paid, but she was silent, so he moved onto other things that she might have given up temporarily. "Eating. Drinking. Suffering burns, nausea, cramps. Giving up good judgment." He paused, then, thinking, and Contract jumped in to rile him up.

"Spare yourself from this line of thought. If it's listed in a medical commercial under 'possible side effects,' I've done it. Try something original."

Her speaking had given him the time he needed to think up a new line of attack. "Have you ever given yourself agoraphobia? Lost the ability to read? Been bald? Had an embarrassing tattoo? Kissed a girl? Kissed a boy? With tongue?"

"Dennis, keep it PG." Triumph cut in, but he was looking more impressed than disapproving, now, so Clockblocker opened his mouth again, but Intrepid cut in first.

"You said on Friday that you could give up anything that was yours. Energy, body, or possessions. From Dennis' questions we know you've used embarrassment and fear, which are both painful emotions. Have you ever made yourself angry?" Clockblocker filed away that Contract had told Intrepid about her powers, but not the rest of the team.

"That was a mistake I didn't repeat in a hurry." Despite her words, she was smiling a little fondly.

Intrepid continued, "You've mentioned an enforced silence… have you ever given up your ability to be silent and been forced to just keep talking?"

"When it finally wore off I didn't get my voice back for a month and a half."

"I think we get the picture," Triumph cut in. "Unless there's something you want to add?"

"I think you understand the important details."

"Any other questions?" Triumph offered, which was his way of wrapping up, but Clockblocker decided to throw a curveball at Contract just to see which way she'd jump. He let out a little of his hostility out of the box he usually kept it in, this time being purposeful and keeping it tightly leashed, and faced Contract directly.

"Why didn't you just tell us about your power? Why yank our chain? We're your _team_."

She met his eyes calmly, and answered him, "How would you go about telling complete strangers that, from your own perspective, you'd effectively killed your entire family? I can never talk to them again. I can never hug them, or see them, or send them a birthday gift. I am grieving everything I knew. My family, my friends, my life. How would _you_ choose to address the subject?"

It hit Clockblocker like a punch to the gut. It was the second or third time she'd said it, but the first time that it really penetrated. Without waiting for an answer, Contract stood and walked stiffly towards her private room.

"She'll calm down," Intrepid said, looking after her. "I think it hits her all over again every time she has to say it. On Friday she could barely get the words out. She just kept hinting at it. At least now she can be blunt. It's hard for us to hear, but I think it's a good sign that she can say it to us." Jason grabbed his bag off the floor. "Sorry to duck out, but I should actually be going. My mom's expecting me at home."

Distantly, Clockblocker felt a hint of anger at Intrepid. He treated the Wards like an afterschool club that obeyed set hours and restrictions, and maybe that had worked in Texas but Brockton Bay needed them too badly to allow it. Clockblocker might flirt with the idea of irresponsibility, but he'd never let his team down when they needed him. The resentment felt feeble in the face of what Contract had said. She had cut all ties with her family. He couldn't stay away from his father more than a couple hours at a time, even for clearly rewarding activities such as patrol. Had he judged Contract too harshly?

Vista and Triumph left shortly after for patrol, and Gallant went to the console, leaving Aegis, Kid Win, and Clockblocker at the table. Fortunately, Kid Win could be counted on to know when he needed space, so Clockblocker chose to stay seated to work out his thoughts while his teammates conversed nearby.

"You okay?" Kid Win asked Aegis softly. "You didn't say anything that whole time."

"I was here most of Sunday," Aegis replied softly, "and I had monitor duty yesterday, so I knew most of this, just not how it fit together."

"It's a big change," Kid Win offered, feeling his teammate out.

"Yeah."

"What's up? You seem really down."

Aegis shrugged. He tried to keep his voice even as he replied, but as quiet as it was, it still shock a little. "Piggy called me to her office last night. It seems that they've decided to leave Rory in charge indefinitely, or at least until everything else stabilizes. She hinted that even if he left before I graduated, they might go straight to Clockblocker anyway for PR reasons. On one hand, I'm sort of relieved because I always knew that I would have a short window as leader. On the other… well, I think I wanted it more than I realized before it was taken away. Rory and I talked about it earlier today, and I get why it's the right choice, but it's a lot to take in."

It was news to Clockblocker too, but his resentment at the poor communications in the office was an old wound, and he tried to focus on the new information he had learned.

"I'm sorry. I think you would have been a good leader." Kid Win sounded sincere, which meant he was. The kid was a terrible liar.

"I'm considering where I want to go when I graduate. I got good offers from a couple schools in California. I never wanted to leave Brockton Bay before, and I don't want to do so now either, but they're really good offers. I guess I've just got a lot on my mind." Absently, Carlos stood up. "Sorry to unload on you."

"No apology necessary. You headed home?"

"Yeah. Chem test tomorrow."

"Good luck." Aegis left without saying good bye to anyone else, which was itself a sign of the disappointment and stress he was feeling.

Just as the silence was about to get awkward between himself and Kid Win, Contract came out of her room carrying her computer.

"We're thirty seconds from press release. Want to watch PHO blow up?" She seemed surprisingly okay, even smiling a little bit. Clockblocker wondered if it was an act, or if the earlier anger had been fake. As much as he wished otherwise, he knew the hurt had probably been genuine and with good reason, so she was either mildly bi-polar, or she was just acting okay.

"I admit, I've never really gotten into it," Kid Win told her as he stood up to leave.

"Really? At all? Do you have an account?"

"Yeah. I set one up when I joined the Wards, but I live this stuff day in and day out. I don't need to take it home with me too."

"Fair enough. I'm new to the whole celebrity thing."

"Well, don't let me stop you. Just make sure that you don't say anything that will put PR up in arms." He waved good-bye over his shoulder, but Clockblocker didn't bother to return it.

"Keeping it PG. Roger, Roger." She put her feet up on the table and set the computer in her lap.

Clockblocker considered, just for a moment, holding his tongue but he couldn't. He knew it would eat at him if he didn't say something, now, here, while he had a chance to rebuild his image of Contract. "You healed people."

Contract looked up instantly, and she saw something in his face that made her put the laptop aside. "Pardon me?"

"In New York. You healed people. You can do that."

"What's your point?"

"Why aren't you healing people? You could save millions of lives just by healing people."

"Millions of lives? Or did you have one particular life in mind?"

Clockblocker didn't think he'd been that transparent, but it was too far down the path to turn back now. "My dad. You could heal my dad." She glanced off to the side for a quick moment, before she met his eyes again.

"And what do you propose I sacrifice to achieve this? Nothing in this world is free. What could you give up, what might you regret giving up, even if you got your dad's life in return? That's where a contract exists, in the balance between two equal costs. If want your dad's life, find something of equal worth."

Clockblocker wanted to protest the unfairness of the task. Nothing was worth as much as his father's life. He thought over all the things that he had listed off to her just minutes before, but he'd gladly accept any of them to save his dad. Physical discomfort, handicaps, limitations - his dad was worth all this and more. There was no equality there.

After what felt like an eternity, Contract nodded, still staring at him, as though his silence was answer enough. "And what do you propose I trade for his life? What do I have that is worth the life of a human being, even one I have never met? Do I have heirlooms, or beloved tools, or hand-crafted treasures to trade away? Do I have even so much as my own name, that I could give it up to save a life? Having lost everything, what do I have that's worth the life of any person, even the life of a stranger?"

Clockblocker felt a little sick, listening to her. His anger and resentment, recently fed, slipped out of his control yet again. "So you're useless, worthless. You had one card to play and it's done. Are you just going to give up? This is my dad we're talking about."

"Do you trust me?" she interrupted, so calm and casual that it snapped him out of it and he realized that he had been lashing out at her for reasons that were truly beyond her control. He was disappointed, but she couldn't change the situation. Wearily, Clockblocker looked away from her and answered honestly.

"No."

She reached into a pocket and he turned back to her, surprised to see that she was actually smiling just a little bit. "Put this on." She leaned across the table, and set a hand-made bracelet between them. It was very simple, black and blue, utterly unremarkable except that it looked like it was made by a nine year old girl. He looked up at her, then glanced at the bracelet, then looked at her again.

She was leaning back in her seat, watching him patiently. He didn't see how there could be any harm in doing as she said, as bizarre as her request seemed to be. Slowly, he reached out and put it on, but her facial expression didn't change. "Don't take it off."

"Why not?"

"I'll tell you in a couple hours."

Clockblocker didn't really like that answer, but it wasn't worth arguing with her over it. Instead, he sighed, and habitually checked his phone. It was six minutes past the hour. He'd missed visiting hours, again. Briefly, he considered trying to sneak into the hospital, but it wasn't worth the trouble if he got caught. He could just go home, but he didn't really want to face his mom at the moment. While he thought, he found his fingers toying with the bracelet and forced himself to let it go.

Contract had picked her laptop back up while he was lost in thought, and was typing away. Absently, Clockblocker found himself wanting to be helpful to make up for his earlier lashing out, even if it didn't seem to have upset her. "Glenn will be pissed if you give yourself any bad PR."

"Thanks for the tip, but I'm not on PHO at the moment."

Clockblocker decided not to push, and instead he grudgingly got out his homework. If he couldn't see his dad today, he could and would delay his mom's lectures.

After about an hour of productivity, Dennis decided that he'd waited long enough. He looked up to get Contract's attention, but she was already looking at him and just met his eyes steadily.

"Why am I wearing this bracelet?" he asked in frustration.

"I can't tell you that yet."

"Why not?"

"Please trust me."

"Because you've been so open and trustworthy with us? You went behind our backs with the Sophia business, you've been here for weeks without the slightest effort to be a part of this team or share any useful information. I get that your life is rough right now, but none of us are living on a bed of roses, so why won't you cancel your pity party and just explain yourself once in a while?"

"Dennis, please, be patient. I know that I'm asking for a leap of faith, but what is it hurting?" She had a point, but now that he'd started this conversation he sort of wanted to finish it, and it had nothing to do with the bracelet she'd asked him to wear.

"Why didn't you just tell us what you saw happening with Sophia?"

"Would you have believed me?"

"It would have been better than having her whisked away in the middle of the night like we're suddenly in the Mafia or something!"

"I think you're feeling guilty for not seeing the truth yourself and that you're taking it out on me." Contract was still speaking softly, almost calmly, which was pissing him off even more.

"There was no truth to see! Sophia was a dedicated member of the Wards. She was a hard worker and a better teammate than you." He forced himself to take a deep breath. "Why didn't you at least try?"

"I didn't want to be the girl who cried wolf. It was my word against Sophia's, and I hadn't observed any direct incidents, only behavioral patterns. I had no credit in the eyes of anyone who was able to make a difference. My family knows that I'm a good profiler with good instincts, that I don't malign individuals without good reason, that I tend to give people more benefit of the doubt than I should. But the PRT only sees a recalcitrant teenager with authority issues."

"It would help if you explained yourself once in a while."

She glanced at his wrist, then nodded slightly. "Alright, Dennis. You're taking a leap of faith for me. Ask me anything."

"You'll answer?"

"I'll be as truthful as I can be."

"Why me?"

"For one thing, you asked. For another, you're obviously stressed about your dad, and you're lashing out at every excuse. I know what that feels like, and I don't want to be something else to keep you up at night." She paused, then continued.

"Mostly though… it's nice to be able to be honest. For the past several days I have been under a contract to speak no complete truth and communicate no complete lie by written word. However, I am currently in the middle of another contract which makes you an exception to the first, so I can be honest with you right now. I am very good as using statements which are technically false, exaggerations, and questions to convey what I mean without speaking complete truth, which is why I haven't told the entire team about my limitation. But it is a limitation, which is why I have been avoiding detailed, technical explanations as much as possible, but can now discuss them with you." That was totally and completely not what Dennis was expecting.

"So you're telling the truth right now?"

"Yes." As soon as she said it, he saw the error in his test. She suddenly grinned at him. "You're quick on the uptake. A better test is to come up with a statement that is completely true and see if I can repeat it back. For instance, you might ask me to state, "When in costume, Dennis is called Clockblocker." Or some other very simple truth."

"Thanks for the tip."

"Of course. Telling people about this particular cost, which my family abbreviated to the handle truth-and-lies, tends to mess with our ability to trust each other, and offering you a test is the least I can do if it will help you not freak out."

"Who else knows?"

"I told Intrepid and Armsmaster, which means that I assume Dragon knows too."

"Why Intrepid?"

"I thought he could handle it."

"How much longer will it be a problem?"

"With you? Not again during this contract. For the rest of the world… well, it was going to be about 7 days, but now it's probably closer to 5, and it started on Friday afternoon."

"Really? Why?"

"The balance works on regret, remember. Telling people about this limitation increases the damage to my relationships with them, which is what I really regret."

That actually gave Dennis the reassurance he'd been looking for. She wanted to be a part of the team, but was struggling. He could accept that she was trying and failing much easier than he could accept her simple indifference. He decided to lighten the mood. "So tell me about the weirdest contract you ever made."

"Ah… well, I had to be my brother for a day."

"What?"

"Yeah. I had broken both legs and he was out cold, and we were in danger, so I became a body snatcher with the cost that however long I used the power to get us out of danger, I'd have to stay in his body twice as long afterward. It ended up being just over 24 hours total. Weirdest experience of my life."

"That's seriously freaky." Dennis made a note to warn someone that she could give herself master capabilities.

"I know. But my family gave me blanket permission to make what trades I felt were necessary, even at cost to themselves, so it worked. I couldn't have body snatched our attacker, for example."

That made him feel better, but it didn't seem quite true. "But you healed without permission."

"I restored them to their own image of their best self. Permission is implicit. I used that wording in a cancer hospital once, and there was one patient who had no change what so ever. She believed her struggle was making her a better person and had no wish to give it up at any level."

"I think I would have heard about an entire cancer hospital being healed."

"It wasn't here in the US, and to balance the costs I had to make the healing gradual over the course of six months."

"How does that work? Balancing the costs?"

"Well, there's two main kinds of contracts. Mentally, I call them closed and open. In an open contract, I do whatever I want to do and accept a cost with a duration, and the duration changes in order to balance the contract. That's the sort of contract I did on Friday. Closed contracts are a more one-time cost, and in that case I just keep throwing out ideas until I find one that… clicks."

"Which is the Behemoth contract?"

"That's actually a combination of closed and if-then. If-thens are simple, but very powerful and very hard to do. It sets up an 'if this, then that' scenario. If this cost is paid, as long as this cost is continually paid, then that effect will be ironclad. It's hard to find costs and effects that are both continual and balanced. Destroying Behemoth and keeping him gone is if-then. Converting all that matter into energy was a closed contract."

"So when are you going to tell me about this leap of faith?" Dennis kept his tone teasing as he twisted the bracelet on his wrist, but her smile still dimmed.

She opened her mouth to answer him, but his civilian phone rang. Dennis saw that it was his mom, and he answered with a guilty twist to his stomach. He'd forgotten to text to tell her he'd be late.

"Hello?"

"Dennis? You need to come home right now."

The panic in her voice sent a shot of adrenaline through his blood. He was on his feet and calling the elevator before he had processed it all. "What's wrong? I can go freeze Dad, give them a little more time…" His dad had been stable that morning before school. How had things gotten to the point of panic in less than a day?

"No, honey, I need you to come home. Your dad's fine."

"What?" The elevator doors opened in front of Dennis but he didn't go in, leaning against the wall instead. "What do you mean?"

"He's fine. Miraculously healed. They've confirmed that he's completely healthy, but Panacea hasn't been in the hospital all day." The more he listened, the most he realized that she wasn't panicked, but giddy with happiness. She was fine. Dad was better than fine.

Dad was better than fine.

Dennis looked at the hand pressed against the wall, and at the bracelet on that wrist. "I'll be home soon," he said, even as he hung up and turned back to his teammate.

Contract - Fi, he reminded himself - hadn't moved a muscle, and she was smiling again, though it seemed sort of sad. Quietly she asked him, "Good news?"

"My dad is completely healed."

"Good."

"How did you do it? You said you didn't have anything to trade for a life."

"I've been working around the restrictions of my gift a lot longer than you have. Just because you couldn't find a solution, doesn't mean that I couldn't. I didn't trade for your father's life. I traded for a better relationship with my teammate. If you were willing to set aside your anger and hurt and take a leap of faith on me, then I would be able to be honest with you, and do a favor for you."

"You didn't tell me."

"It wouldn't have been a leap of faith if I did."

"So, what, I have to wear this bracelet the rest of my life?"

"No. Not at all. You took your leap, I did my favor, and our relationship is improved. You can do what you like with it. Throw it out for all I care. But it is yours. Keep it. Wear it, don't wear it, but I don't want it back."

Even knowing he didn't have to wear it, Dennis sort of wanted to. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Dennis. Thank you for having faith." He nodded, feeling like the words had been inadequate but not knowing what else to say, and lifted his phone slightly.

"I, ah, have to go home."

"I know. Go. Be with your family." Dennis nodded again, and turned into the still-open elevator. As soon as the doors closed, he found himself leaning and then sitting against the wall as his knees gave out. His hands were shaking from the adrenaline, and he felt like he was in shock again. He'd reacted the same way when his dad's diagnosis had been explained to him. It seemed his body accepted outraged denial and unbelievable joy in the same way. He just had to make it home, hug his mom, and ask when his dad was being discharged. He could do that.

The doors opened on the garage, and Dennis stood up as steadily as he could. He realized he'd left his school supplies behind, but he didn't care. He took a step forward, and then another, and then he found himself running towards the bus stop. He was going to go home and be with his family. Everything would be okay.


	13. The Truth Will Out

**AN:** For the purposes of this story, Alan Barnes does not know that Sophia Hess is Shadow Stalker.

 **Chapter Thirteen: The Truth Will Out**

 **March 10, 2011**

It had been three days without hide or hair of Sophia, Emma, or Madison. Rumors had flown when Taylor came back to school on Tuesday and none of the other girls did, but no one had approached her. She was too close to the center of all the drama, which made her too much of an unknown. On Wednesday, the four girls who had been the trio's best back up were issued an in-school suspension. After that, everyone except Jason avoided Taylor like the plague, as though simply being around her would get them in trouble. Jason, by contrast, made it a point to eat lunch with her each day and when they saw each other in the passing periods he always gave her a huge grin and stopped to chat.

Fi had been missing since Tuesday, but Taylor didn't know what to think of that. Perhaps, after exposing Contract as a Winslow student, the PRT had decided to move her. Or perhaps Fi had gotten in trouble for whatever influence she had used to set things to right. Taylor had tried sending her a PHO message, but hadn't gotten a response yet. When she asked Jason if he'd seen Fi, he just shrugged and they drifted to other topics. It was nice to have a friend again, though they didn't have much in common.

This was now her third day in a row riding the bus home after seven full periods of class. It felt good. Taylor got off the bus two stops early and ran the rest of the way home. It was part of her new workout to run shorter distances more frequently to try to build her stamina up faster, in addition to her morning runs.

When Taylor got close to her house, she saw the Barnes' car parked out front and stopped dead in the middle of the road. Part of her wanted to run away, just turn around and not come home until it got dark. She didn't want to face Emma again. Miss Bird had insisted that there was nothing the girls could do to hurt her now that the school knew what was going on. She'd been encouraged to tell the councilor of any incidents, no matter how small they were so that the bullying could be stopped completely.

But Emma could still hurt her and both girls knew it. A single comment at the right time with the right smirk and Taylor would remember some shared moment now soured forever and feel betrayed all over again. It would seem totally innocuous, and Emma would sound apologetic if any action was taken, but Taylor and Emma would both know that she had been hurt. That was the power Emma had over her, and they both knew it.

Taylor had spent the entirety of Monday and Tuesday braced for impact, waiting for the other shoe that her life always seemed to have lurking around the corner. But staying that alert was exhausting, so she had woken up on Wednesday and decided to enjoy the calm while it lasted. When so many of her secondary tormentors had been punished, it had seemed like a sign that maybe things would actually get better.

Now she wondered how she'd ever been that naïve.

The only thing that kept Taylor from actually running was the feeling that if she did, she'd be abandoning her dad. There was no way to know what was actually going on in the house, but she knew that her father was alone in there with the Barnes, and she couldn't bring herself to surrender the last corner of her life to them without a fight. Her dad deserved at least that much. So, slowly, one step at a time, Taylor walked across the street, into the back yard, and climbed the unbroken steps into the house.

As soon as the back door opened, she could hear the rumble of Mr. Barnes' voice form the kitchen, until her father called out, "Taylor? Is that you?"

Reluctantly, but with increasing determination, Taylor walked around the corner into the kitchen. Surprisingly, Mr. Barnes was unaccompanied. He and her father were standing on opposite corners of the kitchen, but Emma was nowhere in sight.

"Hey Dad." Taylor said, walking past Mr. Barnes to stand next to her father. "What's going on?" It took control, but Taylor managed to sound wary, rather than scared.

"I was hoping you could tell me that," Mr. Barnes snapped, and Taylor saw her dads' fists clench in response. Whatever conversation they'd been having, it hadn't been friendly.

"I don't understand," Taylor said slowly, trying to understand why Mr. Barnes would be coming to her for answers. He was a lawyer, and Taylor hadn't heard anything about the case against Emma that wasn't unsubstantiated rumor. Mr. Barnes opened his mouth again, but her dad spoke over the top of whatever he had been intending to say.

"Taylor, Emma has been arrested. She's been charged with a number of crimes, many of them related to the incident back in January. They're holding her and several other girls without bail."

The information hit Taylor in two pieces. First, she felt a shock of terror that she would have to explain to her dad exactly what had been going on at school, and that it really hadn't gotten better and had in fact been spearheaded by her former best friend, who her dad believed was still Taylor's friend. She hadn't told him about what had happened on Monday, because she hadn't wanted to explain the circumstances. The second was the information that Emma was being held without bail. It seemed critical, though she wasn't sure why she'd keyed on it.

"No bail?" she asked.

"Don't act surprised!" Mr. Barnes shot back.

"You mean Emma _did_ participate in that prank?" Danny Hebert was a lot of things, but never slow on the uptake. Taylor chose to address him first.

"Emma has participated in nearly _every_ prank. She thought up several of them."

"You can't be sure of that!" Mr. Barnes cut in, and Taylor felt true, vitalizing anger for the first time in a long time. She turned on him.

"I can, actually. Emma used secrets I told her to hurt me in the worst possible ways. There is no way that Sophia or Madison or any of the other girls could have known how important my mom's flute was to me. Emma stole it out of my locker and destroyed it." After she finished, Taylor realized that she'd never told her dad what happened to the flute. She couldn't bring herself to elaborate now. Mr. Barnes spoke up and spared her from having to decide what to say next.

"That's hearsay. It won't stand up in court." Taylor shrugged in response. Mr. Barnes licked his lips. He seemed suddenly nervous. "You can't prove anything."

"I've got a written record of everything that happened this school year, since September. I don't have last year's stuff written anywhere, but I complained to the principle about the textbooks they ruined and the backpack they trashed."

"Emma has been a friend to you since first grade."

"And that ended two years ago. She betrayed me for Sophia and Madison. I don't know why, and I don't care anymore. She got herself into this mess."

"Emma didn't get the PRT involved." Barnes accused. Taylor felt like the last puzzle piece was falling into place as he continued. "Emma's not a parahuman, but the PRT has their hands all over this case. But I suppose you don't know anything about that, either."

The whole scene hadn't made much sense: why would Mr. Barnes be here instead of with the police or his co-workers? Maybe this was the piece she was missing. If the PRT was involved in the case, that meant there was a parahuman involved. Technically, Taylor was a parahuman, but she knew that she wasn't the cause.

It could be that Fi, Contract rather, was pushing for PRT oversight, but it was more likely that one of the criminals involved was parahuman. It would explain why all three were being held without bail, since Shadow Stalker couldn't be singled out from the other two and also couldn't be let out on bail since she was a flight risk. Emma wasn't the parahuman, or Mr. Barnes would know about it. Madison had the wrong body shape for any known parahuman in Brockton Bay except Rune, but it was hard to imagine that a member of the E88 capes would spend time as the third-place girl in a high school trio picking on a single white girl, and she was pretty sure that Rune was an adult.

That left Sophia, who was black, which eliminated E88 and ABB capes. Sophia ran track, so she wasn't doing drugs, which was strong evidence against the Merchants. The Wards… Taylor nearly skipped the hero group by reflex, but then she remembered that the Wards had added a new member in early October. Shadow Stalker was the right body shape, and she was black, and she was the right age. Sophia was Shadow Stalker, and it had taken the PRT six months to realize that she was assaulting another teenager. She'd already been a Ward in January.

Abruptly, Taylor made another leap. Fi was Contract, which meant that Shadow Stalker was technically her teammate. Had Fi known that Sophia was Shadow Stalker? Had she discovered it before or after she'd introduced herself to Taylor and heard about her troubles with Sophia? Had Fi faced push-back when she tried to accuse Sophia? Had that accounted for the week of agonizing torture while Taylor waited for results and endured abuse for being a rat? Taylor felt sick that Sophia had been such a celebrated part of the official system while she'd been abusing her power.

Luckily, Taylor's dad answered for her, because she wasn't sure that she'd be able to keep her voice steady in the face of everything that she had just learned. "What does the PRT have to do with Taylor?"

Mr. Barnes looked at her dad for a long moment, reading him, then turned to her. Taylor was pretty sure her face was still stuck on angry, so she didn't try to school her features. She just met Mr. Barnes' gaze and glared for all she was worth. After a long moment, he looked back towards her dad.

"The criminal case is weak at best. It rests on coerced testimony and an untested, unproven lie detection system. After Emma is cleared I am going to sue both of you for slander, unless Taylor testifies that Emma is innocent." For a moment, Taylor wasn't sure why Mr. Barnes was even asking. At this point, Emma was arrested and evidence was being collected, and Taylor changing her testimony wouldn't stop the wheels of bureaucracy. But one look at Mr. Barnes' eyes answered the question.

He was so desperate to help his daughter that he would do anything, no matter how illogical, to try to help her. Even confronting a suspected parahuman to try to accuse her of manipulating the system. Maybe, if Taylor had admitted to being parahuman, he'd even have been willing to threaten to expose her. He'd do anything for Emma. Unfortunately, he'd tried to help his daughter at Taylor's expense, and her dad wasn't going to allow that.

"Get out," Danny said, sounding like he was on the edge of losing control. Mr. Barnes frowned and tried again, ignoring the warning.

"Court cases are long and expensive. You know this, I've told you countless times that the deepest pockets will win." He glanced around the kitchen. "You can't afford to face me in court."

"Get out," her dad repeated. Taylor felt a swell of pride.

"Danny-"

"-Get. Out. Now. You are in my house, and if you don't leave, I will call the police and have you arrested for trespassing." Taylor was pretty sure that that wouldn't actually work with a lawyer like Mr. Barnes, but evidently he saw or heard something that made him decide to leave anyway. Her dad followed him out of the kitchen and to the front door.

Taylor heard the front door open, then she heard Mr. Barnes say, "Danny, I am just trying to protect my daughter. I will do everything I can for Emma."

"Do you think I'll do less for Taylor? I thought we were friends. I respected you. You know me. So look me in the eye and believe me when I tell you that if you come around this property again without an apology for my daughter, I will consider you a trespasser and I will lay you out cold."

The door snapped shut abruptly, before Mr. Barnes could answer. Taylor's dad came back to the kitchen and leaned against the door jam, looking less bewildered than usual while anger sharpened his gaze and made his height almost intimidating. If Taylor hadn't been sure that her dad loved her, and hadn't been pushing six feet herself, she might have felt afraid. Instead, she only felt grateful. For a long moment, the two just looked at each other.

"Want to come sit in the living room?" her dad finally offered. Taylor nodded and followed him into the living room to answer all the questions she'd dodged and ignored for the last year and half. After only a moment's hesitation, Taylor decided to sit beside him on the couch instead of across the room. It meant that he could wrap one arm around her shoulders, and she didn't have to always look at his face. For a single breath, they sat in silence together, both gathering strength. Then Taylor decided to lay out the bare bones of the situation, rather than force her father to drag it out of her.

"It started the summer before freshman year. I came back from camp and went over to Emma's house, and we talked and everything seemed fine. Then Sophia came over and Emma just… changed. She got mean. And she never stopped. Mostly it's little stuff. Name calling, emails, little vandalisms, taking advantage of the situation. A couple things have been clearly pre-planned. Like January."

"That bruise you had this weekend?" Her dad asked gently, and Taylor swallowed pure gratitude that he was controlling his temper. It made this so much easier.

"Sophia chased me down last Friday. She must have been pretty upset, because usually she avoids leaving actual bruises. She'll bump me in the hallways and she's even pushed me down the last couple stairs, but nothing like last Friday. I think she found out that I'd been talking to Fi about what happened, which didn't make any sense except…" Taylor hesitated to say that Sophia was Shadow Stalker and that was probably the reason that she'd known that Taylor and Fi were talking. She had no proof except for Barnes' comments, and while she thought that she was right, it was possible that the PRT was involved only because of Contract and that Sophia had nothing to do with it. But even without a shred of proof, it somehow felt like the right answer to a riddle she didn't know she'd been trying to solve.

Her dad didn't press for her to finish, instead he asked, "Who is Fi?"

"Oh, she's a new girl at school I've been eating with. She's really Contract, the cape that took out Behemoth." As soon as Taylor said it, it occurred to her that she probably shouldn't have. Fi had told her the truth in confidence, and even though Taylor trusted her dad implicitly, Fi didn't even know him. Contract had never come out and said that her secret identity was, well, secret, but maybe she hadn't thought she needed to. Taylor took a deep breath, then decided to plow ahead. She'd deal with the fall out of what she'd said later. For now, it felt good to just be honest with her dad, so she continued.

"She knew something was wrong right away, and she was determined to do something about it. She convinced me to send her my written record of everything that had happened this year. That was about two weeks ago, and she hasn't mentioned it since. In fact she sort of distanced herself last week, and then she hasn't been in school since Tuesday. I wasn't sure what she was doing with the information - if she was even doing anything - but I think the results speak for themselves."

"You think she's the reason that the PRT is involved?"

"Maybe." Taylor decided to take the plunge, since she'd already revealed Contract, who she actually liked. "I think Sophia might be Shadow Stalker."

"Should you be telling me about these secret identities?"

Taylor swallowed heavily. She probably shouldn't be. It might be alright for her to share her suspicions about Shadow Stalker, since they were suspicions and since she had found the information independently. But revealing what Fi, Contract, had told her in confidence was less grey. "Probably not." There was a moment of silence, then she elaborated guiltily. "But I trust you, and it's not like you'd tell anyone."

"You should still be more careful. I guess we'll just have to keep it as our little secret." The more she thought about it, the more she knew she'd screwed up, so Taylor forcefully focused herself on her next task.

She took a deep breath to brace herself. But since she'd exposed her friend, she really ought to be completely honest. "Can you keep one more secret?"

"Yes." Her dad looked wary, but didn't try to stop her.

Taylor almost didn't say it. Part of her really didn't want to tell him, but if she didn't do it now she probably never would, and the space between them would just grow which wasn't what she wanted either.

"I'm a cape too." It sounded too simple when she said it like that, so she hurried to explain. "I haven't gone out, I don't have a costume yet or even a name. I can control bugs. I've been weaving a costume, but it's long work."

"Breathe, honey. Start from the beginning. When did this happen?" Taylor felt herself flinch and her dad's look changed to regret instantly. "I'm so sorry. You were dealing with superpowers and bullying and I didn't even-"

"-no Dad, you did everything you could. I didn't give you the information you needed. I didn't even understand it at first. The bugs are sort of like… little stars that I can sense all around me. Spots of light and information. But I can't really use the audio or visual information and it took a while to figure out how to filter it out. I'm doing fine now. It's actually really helpful, because when I'm upset I can just focus on what the swarm is seeing and that helps distract me. Or I try to visualize fighting tactics or think up names."

"So you do intend to go out in costume eventually?"

"Yes."

"When will you join the Wards?"

"Never." Her dad didn't hide his displeasure at that answer, so she elaborated. "For one, Sophia is likely Shadow Stalker, which means that the Wards have had a serious bully on the team and nobody cared or noticed. I don't know which is worse. Second, the legal system failed me back in January, and I don't intend to put myself in their power any further. Finally, most importantly, I really don't need more teen drama. I don't need a new source of politics and heartache."

"You like Fi, and you know that she's Contract. I like the sound of having her watching your back. What's your other option? Going solo is dangerous in any city, and especially in Brockton Bay with so many teams."

"Sophia," she shot back in protest.

He nodded, acknowledging her protest but not backing down. "We clearly don't know the whole story there. It sounds like Contract brought the situation to the appropriate people and they reacted remarkably quickly. An arrest in less than two weeks based on the word of two teenagers is really very fast."

"I'll think about it," Taylor conceded, before he talked her into going down to the PRT tonight. She leaned further back into the couch, just relaxing, and felt her dad sigh beside her. It felt good to have a silence weighted with the things that they had said, instead of all the things they were both avoiding.


	14. Q&A

**AN:** This chapter owes a huge thank you to SlowMercury. It's not the first chapter that has been rescued (Clockblocker's was also much improved) but the subtle changes in this one really affected the tone of the story, so I wanted to express my gratitude. Thanks, SlowMercury!

 **Chapter Fourteen: Q &A**

 **March 11, 2011**

On Friday, Fi failed to show at school yet again, so Taylor logged onto PHO and sent a message to Contract. It took a long time to compose, especially after she remembered that outing a cape was illegal and there was a slight chance that Contract didn't know Shadow Stalker's secret identity. Taylor couldn't be sure that the Wards even unmasked to each other. So, finally she sent a cryptic PM:

 _Is everything okay? I've missed you at school. Even with my Stalkers gone, I find myself jumping at Shadows looking for Sophia and her gang. When are you coming back? I'd really like to talk to you about what's going on. There's no one else I can explain it all to. I'm afraid of saying the wrong thing to the wrong person._

If Contract wasn't aware of Shadow Stalker's secret identity (or if Taylor herself was wrong, which didn't feel likely) then the message would seem a little odd. But she was hoping that Contract did know, and that she would catch the capitol "S"s on Stalkers and Shadows. Taylor couldn't bring herself to consider the Wards without first knowing what had been going on, so she had to try something. She got a reply back almost immediately.

 _I'm not coming back to school. We can meet up somewhere after you get out of class. I'm glad you're coming to me. You can tell me anything, and I will help however I can._

Taylor wasn't certain about the legality of exposing suspicions of a secret identity to an individual who probably already knew about it. Read a certain way, that last sentence could be an offer of amnesty regardless of the actual law. Or it could just be a reaction to Taylor's previous message. But Taylor wasn't about to back off now when her gut was urging her forward, and Contract had proven to be on her side thus far.

 _I think Sophia Hess might be Shadow Stalker._

The minutes before she got a reply stretched, and Taylor found herself glancing around the classroom nervously. Maybe putting that in writing, even on a private message board, had been a bad idea.

 _Regardless of the validity of that statement, Sophia Hess is currently being prosecuted to the full extent of the law. What difference would it make?_

This is where things got even stickier. Fi hadn't out and out denied that Sophia had been a Ward, but Taylor couldn't really press the issue without exposing her own powers. It wasn't that she minded telling Fi, but telling a Ward might invoke protocols that Contract was legally obligated to obey.

 _How can you work with a team that ever included her?_

 _We should have this conversation in person. Can you come down to the PRT base?_

 _Yes._

 _Come after school._ Contract immediately signed out of the chat.

After that, the classes dragged by. Taylor went over and over the conversation, picking apart every remembered detail. As she did so, she became more and more certain that Sophia was Shadow Stalker, and that Contract had known about it. Taylor thought back to her first interactions with Fi, and tried to figure out if there had been any sort of shift in Fi's behavior. Anything that would indicate she'd just been informed that she'd befriended the rival of a teammate. But if anything, Fi had been extremely suspicious of Sophia from the beginning and had believed Taylor's accusations without any prompting.

By the time school ended, Taylor was anxious for the meeting with Fi. She rode the bus down to the PRT stop, but realized as she was walking inside that she had no idea how to actually get ahold of Fi. Could she walk up to reception and ask to see Contract? She froze just inside the door, eyeing the gift shop, the people waiting in a small lounge area, and the unobtrusive guards. Before she could really start to evaluate a way forward, the elevator door opened, and Fi leaned out and waved to her, beckoning her to come in. Taylor crossed the lobby, feeling like everyone was watching them although no one was. She entered the elevator and watched as Fi pushed an unlabeled floor button and typed a code into a key pad before leaning in to have her retina scanned.

After this was finished, she wrapped an arm around Taylor in a loose hug. "How have you been?"

"Good. Much better. You?"

"I've had my ups and downs. Mostly ups, though." The elevator doors opened and Taylor jumped a little. She hadn't even felt them move. There was a long, pale corridor with doors on either side, spaced a good distance apart. Fi led her down the hall to one marked 405 and used a swipe badge to open the door. It was a lounge, complete with coffee bar and couch. Fi ushered her in and shut the door.

"The nice thing about living in a base is that everything is soundproofed to prevent accidental eavesdropping. I could take you down to the Wards' base, but Clockblocker and Kid Win are coming in when school lets out and I sort of got the impression you needed to chat, just the two of us."

Fi sat down in an armchair across from the couch that Taylor had chosen. "Let me start by saying that it is normally illegal to confirm or deny the secret identity of any registered hero, and especially so in the case of a minor. That being said, I have convinced Armsmaster and then Legend that in your case, we need to make an exception. But before I can say anything, either way, I need you to sign a non-disclosure agreement. Technically, it covers both the information you asked about earlier today, as well as my two names."

Fi laughed as she pulled the papers out of the drawer in the coffee table. "They weren't pleased with my decision to trust you with my name without getting you cleared first. They were especially upset when they realized you'd had the information for more than two weeks and hadn't signed any papers yet. I trust you, so normally I'd tell them to take their documents and jump in a lake, but we compromised. They gave me a waiver for you to have full discloser on the situation with Sophia Hess, as long as a put a legal bow around the whole thing and threw in my name for good measure. So there you have it."

Taylor leaned forward to grab a pen out of the cup on the table, but didn't reach for the agreement right away. Things were advancing very quickly, and she wanted a moment to evaluate.

"So if I sign this, what does that mean?"

"It means that you can't tell anyone about my secret identity, or anything about your suspicions that Shadow Stalker might be Sophia Hess. You can't tell people she is. You can't tell them she isn't. You can't say you suspected it. But don't take my word for it. Read it. Never sign anything you haven't read."

Taylor picked up the document and scanned it. The language was very legal, and it seemed like each paragraph was saying the same thing over and over. She signed it. Fi grabbed a pen of her own and signed on the witness line. Then she tossed the document carelessly onto the table.

"You're completely right. How did you figure it out?"

"Mr. Barnes said that the PRT were making trouble in the investigation."

"But you knew that I had made the accusations that led to the arrest."

"It didn't seem right." Fi nodded, absorbing that, and Taylor pressed on. "When did you know?"

"From the beginning. Sophia was on probation, so her basic dossier included her secret identity."

"Yet you believed me over her."

"I know a bully when I see one. I didn't know how far she'd go, but bullies are all the same at heart. I wasn't about to trust one any further than I had to." Fi sounded disgusted, even more than Taylor was. It gave her the boldness to ask the questions she really wanted.

"What did the other Wards think of it?"

"Mostly they're shocked they didn't know what was going on. Shadow Stalker was forced to join the Wards after she was connected to the death of an Empire 88 thug. She claimed that she had been trying to interrogate him and then he'd tried to escape and she panicked. They called it accidental manslaughter. Since Monday, they've connected her with two other deaths that put that whole thing in question.

"But the bottom line is that the Wards didn't see her for what she was. They just thought she got in over her head one time. Around here, she kept her head down. She wasn't the biggest fish in the pond and she knew it. She was passive aggressive with Vista, but Vista's got a chip on her shoulder about being the youngest on the team and never told anyone about it. Sophia got on Kid Win a little too, but everyone teases him so the team wrote it off.

"Shadow Stalker was good in the field, very focused and professional. All the incidents at school were supposed to be reported to a social worker, but there was an honest miscommunication. That worker never received the majority of the reports from the principal's secretary, and Blackwell, who did get the reports, assumed that the PRT was handling it. Everyone agrees it was a massive screw up, which is how I leveraged permission to tell you and explain all of this."

"So the past two years were just an oversight?" Taylor demanded, upset. Fi shrugged, but maintained eye contact.

"Sophia's only been on their radar for six months. And in that time, yeah, she kept her head down. She knew how to duck out of trouble."

"You spotted it," Taylor protested, but she felt a little more settled and it didn't come out as acidly as it might have. Fi was taking her concerns seriously and addressing them honestly, but it was also clear that she felt the situation had been handled. From anyone else, the casualness would have mad Taylor madder, but every time she wanted to get upset, she remembered the Fi was the one person who had helped her.

"I knew coming in that there was something rotten in Brockton Bay. I didn't know what, exactly, but there were a lot of signs that things weren't right here. Additionally, I'm suspicious of large organized forces in general. To me, a governmental hero credential does not automatically make someone good. But my insight is unique. Most of the Wards are just kids, really. They're not jaded yet, and you can't blame a person for ignorance."

"They worked with her for six months." Taylor wanted to hang onto a reason to be upset with the Wards. She knew her dad wanted her to join, and right now the only real defense she was the Sophia mess. If that was cleaned up and the other Wards were good people, she knew that she'd end up a Ward pretty quickly.

It wasn't that she hated the idea of being a Ward, precisely. There were a lot of potential advantages, working with Fi the biggest among them, and she knew that she'd agree in the end. She just wasn't sure was ready yet. Fi responded gently, but firmly.

"And during that time she saved some if not all of their lives. That's the nature of being on a cape team. I won't defend what she did or even defend her as a person, but the remaining Wards are good people, and them I will defend." Fi's quiet assurance eased something in Taylor, and she realized that she actually trusted Fi and her judgment. It had been a long time since Taylor had trusted someone other than herself, but it felt good.

Maybe she was ready to join a team. Particularly one that Fi was so willing to defend. "Can I tell you a secret, as my friend?"

"Yes. I promise."

Taylor took a deep breath, then took the plunge. "I'm a cape."

Fi nodded calmly, not at all phased. "Yeah, I thought you might be. What can you do, specifically?"

Taylor wanted to groan that it wasn't fair, she'd wanted more of a reaction from her big reveal, but instead she tugged on the ants that were currently looking for the sugar bowl and started to direct them over to the table. "I control bugs."

"Wait, what?" Now, Fi looked surprised. She sat up quickly and leaned forward. This was the reaction that Taylor had expected from the beginning.

"You said you knew," Taylor shot back, wondering what the problem was.

"I guessed that you were a _thinker_. The way you put together the Sophia thing was the biggest clue, but you're also very resourceful. And a psychotic break after a traumatic experience is not uncommon for newly triggered thinkers suffering information overload. I did not see bug master coming. Uh, congratulations." Fi sank back, and Taylor felt herself relaxing too. They made eye contact, and Taylor found herself laughing while Fi started giggling in a way that was, itself, pretty funny. Taylor relaxed more, and then Fi, who had managed to stop giggling, took a deep breath and started again, and soon they were both breathless.

After several minutes of this, Fi finally managed to regain enough breath to speak. "Seriously, you're not a thinker?"

"No."

"But that break down?" Fi insisted, lounging back in her chair, flipping a pen between her fingers.

Taylor shrugged. "Oh, well, I was overwhelmed at first. Bugs don't see or hear like we do, and I had no idea what was going on, so it took a while to figure it all out and adjust."

"So you get information from the bugs you control?"

"Well, they feed me information whether I'm controlling them or not. But mostly only the sense of touch translates well. That, and their positions."

The pen Fi was flipping had fallen into a mesmerizing rhythm, which didn't miss a beat as she shifted her weight forward again. "What's your radius?"

"A little over a block, maybe?"

Fi let out a low whistle of appreciation, which was not what Taylor was expecting. Fi looked eager, now. "With practice, you could be pretty awesome. As a thinker, you would be way more effective in a team, so I thought you might be coming in to join the Wards." Fi looked eager, even hopeful. "With a power like this, you'd be an amazing field asset. We could really use you, though you'd need practice obviously."

Suddenly, Fi stopped the flipping pen and sank back just a little. "Unless you're not here for the Wards. With your power, you wouldn't necessarily need a team." She was trying to school her features, but Taylor was pretty sure she was disappointed in the idea. That made her feel good, to be wanted, and she tried to reassure her new friend.

"Bug control really isn't a big deal." It was even the truth. Bugs were inconvenient to an enemy, but they weren't powerful. Not unless Taylor was willing to risk using poisons, but with black widows, even a single bite could be deadly.

Fi waved her concern away. "Is your control pretty precise?"

"I guess."

"Then it's a big deal." Taylor opened her mouth to object, and Fi cut her off. "What's in the room next to us?"

"It's, a, ah, conference room," Taylor answered, surprised to realize that she already knew the answer. There was a pair of flies in the room that had been buzzing around since they arrived, and Taylor had been subconsciously paying attention and gathering data until she could guess that it was a long room with a long center table and a number of chairs and computer screens on the wall.

"And is anyone there?" Fi asked, still acting more casual than Taylor thought she really felt.

"No."

"If there was, you could land a fly on them?"

"Yes."

She waved her hand as though to say "I've made my point." When Taylor didn't react, Fi elaborated. "You're effectively a thinker because of the little details you don't even realize that you're noticing. And you could become an effective stranger, shifter, blaster, or shaker depending on how you practiced and developed your resources. Not that I'm saying you should, mind you. You might want to graduate high school and get your own bank account before you turn the world on its head. But you could be incredibly diverse, given enough time."

Taylor was floored. She'd spent months thinking about her power, but she had never envisioned the type of ability that Fi was discussing. She could control bugs. Give her enemies lice, maybe blind or irritate them, or help keep bugs out of her allies' food. But that was all irrelevant, really, because they'd gotten side tracked.

Taylor took a deep breath, and said what she should have said when Fi brought up the idea. "I don't really want to go out as an independent. I mean, I was going to, but now my dad knows and he hates the idea. He's right about how dangerous it is. He wanted me to join the Wards, and I was considering it. That's why I wanted to know about Shadow Stalker. And I wanted to get your thoughts too."

"He'd right. Statistically, the odds are dramatically better for young heroes who join the Wards." Fi smiled in a way that seemed a little forced, before it transformed into the real thing. "And we'd be teammates. Do you have a costume?"

"Not yet. I'm weaving one out of spider silk, but it's not ready yet."

"Spider silk." Fi was looking eager again. "Damn, I forgot about that. Someday you might be able to leverage that into a Tinker classification, if you care. I bet there's tons of wickedness you could do with spider silk." She shook herself, refocusing again, grinning conspiratorially. "So you want to join the Wards?"

"Yes," Taylor said, and then realized that she was grinning. Making the decision had removed a weight she didn't know she was carrying.

"So, the question is, do you want to wait until you've finished your suit or do you want to go meet Armsmaster right now?"

Taylor blinked. "Unmasked?"

"Well, for legal reasons the head of the local Protectorate team and the PRT have to know who we are so they can pull us from situations where we have a conflict of interest. It is possible to get a waiver, but it's messy." Fi must have read Taylor's uneasiness, because she leaned forward and continued. "Don't worry. They're both decent people, and I've unmasked to both."

Taylor raised both eyebrows. "You unmasked to me on, like, the third day you met me."

Fi leaned back again with a chuckle and shrugged. "So I don't care about some fake government issued name. Sue me." They laughed, and Taylor decided that she wanted to be teammates sooner rather than later.

"Then I guess we can go meet Armsmaster now?"

"This is going to be awesome." Fi said as she bounced to her feet, gathering the non-disclosure agreement as she went. Suddenly, she stopped and turned back to Taylor, completely serious and maybe even a hint nervous. "As long as you're sure. This is a big step, and it's not something you can take back. Do you want to sleep on it?"

"No." Taylor wanted to move forward with her life. Emma and Sophia had held her back for two years, and she didn't want to wait another day to start putting them behind her and focusing on the good in her life. Fi grinned again, then lead the way out of the lounge and into the PRT base, resuming her verbal examination of Taylor's powers.

As they left, Taylor directed the ants into the sink and down the drain. They'd been too slow as they walked across the carpet to demonstrate her control to Fi, and her friend hadn't needed the proof anyway. When they passed the conference room, Taylor purposefully reached out and controlled the three flies to direct them to slip under the door and join her in the elevator. She wasn't going to be unprepared again.


	15. Saturday Morning Crossword

**AN:** Sorry this chapter is a week late. To make up for it, I will be posting Chapter 16 very soon. I owe another huge thanks to SlowMercury. Without her help, this chapter would have been a disaster, or perhaps it would have been cut entirely.

Also, I have gone back and re-uploaded all the previous chapters to correct mistakes and typos. However, none of the story line has changed.

 **Chapter Fifteen: Saturday Morning Crossword**

 **March 12, 2011**

"It's finally Saturday!" Fi said emphatically as she dropped down in the seat next to Jason at the Ward's conference table. As was her habit, she kicked the chair out and put her feet up. Jason set his iPad aside, glad for the excuse to quit homework.

"You don't go to school," he reminded her mildly.

She waved a hand in the air lazily. "Doesn't matter. A Saturday is still sacred. Particularly after a week like this one."

Jason nodded, remembering that it had only been a week since Fi had frozen almost two dozen people, explained her powers, and somehow in the background still been orchestrating a conclusion to the bullying investigation. Sophia and her cohorts had been arrested on Monday, without any warning or indication that it was coming. When he had confronted Fi about it, she hadn't even looked up as she calmly told him that the expediency was Dragon's work, not hers.

"Any plans for the weekend?" Jason asked before he could get too caught up in his thoughts. Fi shrugged, and glanced away.

Jason forced himself to wait, to see if she would offer anything into the silence. After a long moment, he was rewarded. "I think there'll be a lot of work to do here."

"You _live_ here now." He teased, but her gaze snapped back towards him, and her back stiffened. Jason forced himself not to react. Fi hated to be pushed, and he had been probing about her move since he found out about it. It was maddening to have to try to remember where all the boundaries were with her, especially because it sometimes felt like he was the only one making the effort.

Eventually, she shrugged again and relaxed a little, realizing that he hadn't meant to offend. "Kid Win still hasn't finished your gun for you, and I don't like you being unarmed." She played with the cheap watch she had started wearing, and Jason waited. "Moving here was the right decision. It's safer for me, and infinitely safer for my foster parents."

"That's not why you made it." Jason very carefully didn't make it a question. She gave him a glance and the tiniest inclination of her head. He decided that meant he could keep pushing, so long as he was gentle. "Does it have anything to do with why Clockblocker didn't take your head off on Wednesday when we met for the briefing on major villains and strategies?"

"I didn't master him, if that's what you asking." She shot back, which didn't answer the question. But in not outright denying it, it was a confirmation. She had done something for Dennis that softened their relationship, and it had cost her what little stability she'd found in Brockton Bay. Jason wasn't sure what he would do if he didn't have his home to relieve the stress of being a Ward.

Jason decided to change the subject, rather than keep pushing. "Do you really think you can help Kid Win? I mean, he's a Tinker."

Fi smiled at him, genuine and engaged, and put her feet down to lean forward. "I grew up in the backseat of a car built in the 60s. I'm no Tinker, but I know my way around an engine and I know how things break. I can act as a sounding board."

More and more frequently, Fi had been dropping hints of her past. Jason wasn't sure what to do with the puzzle pieces she was giving him, but each gem only emphasized that she'd led a fascinating life even before she'd erased Behemoth. Knowing she trusted him with those sorts of details helped make up for all the things she didn't tell him.

"Speaking of…" Jason trailed off, but she gestured him on. "What happened after Chris and I left?" On Thursday, Jason had come in for his shift on monitor to find Kid Win and Fi sitting at the conference table, surrounded by papers, graphs, and cardboard models. They'd spent the entirety of his two hour shift discussing technical terms he didn't understand.

During the fifteen minute shift change, Armsmaster had come downstairs and he and Fi had closed themselves in the Wards' office. Armsmaster had opened the door long enough to tell Jason he had to cover Fi's patrol with Kid Win, then he'd pulled the door shut with more force than necessary. When they got back from the patrol, the door was still shut.

"I made my point."

"Everything okay?"

"It will be. Armsmaster wanted my opinion, I gave it, and he didn't like it. We argued. I persuaded him."

"That required two hours?"

"He wanted explanations I couldn't give. And he let it slip that Company had his fingers in the pie in question, so I called him up and had words with him directly. Then I had to talk to Legend. Then Armsmaster and I argued some more." Jason wasn't sure exactly what Company's official PRT roll was, but he did know that Fi was coming to hate him with a passion, and despite her continual, obvious displeasure, Company was allowed to continue to harass her. He wasn't eager to put her in a bad mood, so he shifted the conversation.

"You argued with Legend?" She smirked, self-satisfied, and Jason decided to take a risk. They were the only two in the base, so she might be willing to answer. "Is he in that third class of cape?"

Fi looked honestly startled, which made Jason feel a little more pride than was polite. Not much surprised his teammate. "I forgot that you heard me make that jab at Triumph. But how did you guess…" she trailed off in dawning understanding. "It was last Friday, wasn't it? You saw something there."

"So I'm right?"

"You are."

"What do they have in common?"

She shook her head, and Jason swallowed back the urge to press further, which was made easier when she explained. "I can't tell you. I really, really can't. Just knowing the answer could put you in danger." That made Jason flush cold. When an S-class cape was afraid of information, it was probably healthy to fear it too. That didn't kill Jason's curiosity, but it balanced it.

"Can you tell me about any others?" She had confirmed Legend, and she'd told him that she suspected Aegis weeks ago, so many knowing who qualified must be less dangerous than knowing the what tied them together.

"Why do you want to know?"

"It matters to you." That made Fi smile again, honest and open, but before she could answer, the elevator opened and Missy and Carlos walked out. Fi sat back in her chair and put her feet up again, and Jason knew that the conversation was over.

"Hey guys!" Missy greeted casually, dropping into a chair while Carlos silently pulled one up next to her.

"Hello." Jason answered her, trying to be friendly. Fi gave a little hand wave, but didn't speak. She was watching Carlos, distracted. "How was your week?"

"Busy. Made busier by three briefings. You?"

"Same. School's been in a tizzy over the arrests, but there's been no gang action which is good, all things considered." Jason carefully didn't look at Fi, knowing that he'd pushed her on the topic of her move already. He didn't want to criticize her right now, even if he really wasn't pleased to have been left alone at Winslow.

She used her foot to gently bump his knee under the table, which he took for apology, and turned her attention to Missy. "I've stranded poor Jason by moving into the Wards' base," she elaborated as the elevator opened again to admit Dean and Dennis, and her tone, too, was apologetic. Jason gave his teammates a smile and a little wave, while Missy answered Fi.

"I didn't know you'd moved. When did this happen?"

"Tuesday."

"You should have mentioned it on Wednesday night," Dean somehow managed to say without sounding like he was criticizing her. Dean seemed to be the only other Ward that understood exactly how fragile Fi could be.

"I didn't want to distract from the important briefings and discussions. And it wasn't official until Thursday night," Fi said as she waved away the concern. Jason wondered if that was all that she'd argued with Armsmaster over, or if there had been more than one topic of persuasion.

Before he could find a way to subtly ask, Rory came up from Chris' workshop, Kid Win on his heels, and they took the last two seats. After a momentary glance around the table to realize everyone was present, Rory awkwardly got back to his feet.

"Good afternoon everyone. Good to see you all. I know we usually don't hold multiple briefings in one week, but there's a lot of new information to pass on. First, a new cape has applied to be a Ward, and she'll be here in a little bit. Second, Aegis and I will be graduating early. We'll publicly leave at the end of next month, but Clockblocker will take over operations a week from tomorrow. We're working on press conferences and such, with more details to follow."

Intrepid glanced around the table to see how the others were taking the news, but no one was really reacting one way or the other. Clockblocker looked a little eager, though he was trying to be subtle, and Vista bumped him on the arm. Kid Win was definitely surprised, but he recovered well and offered a tentative congratulations to Clockblocker, who was sitting on his left.

"Are you guys okay?" Gallant asked.

"We are." Aegis assured him. "There's been a lot of discussion about our leadership over the past month, so we knew something might be changing soon. The Protectorate have a lot of reasons for the decision. For one, the new Ward means more manpower which means we aren't needed as badly.

"Also, this is partially a repercussion for not recognizing what was happening with Sophia. The PRT feels the team could use a clean break from everything that happened in that situation, at least as much as possible.

"There is a PR benefit to having one leadership transition, instead of two in six months. Finally, they feel that Clockblocker is ready for the position. Triumph and I both have several offers from various teams, so it's not like we're being hung out to dry. We'll have choices."

"Congratulations, again" Clockblocker offered sincerely, and Vista and Gallant echoed him.

"Indeed," Contract offered dryly. Nothing in her face betrayed smugness, but Intrepid knew that it was unlikely that the team would suffer a major shift without someone consulting her. Had she wanted Clockblocker for a leader specifically? Had she perhaps wanted anyone but Triumph?

"Any questions?" Triumph offered, opening the floor.

"Who's the new kid?" Vista jumped in.

"New cape, never been out before, never even been in costume. She triggered months ago, but hasn't used her powers yet," Triumph replied, then he cleared his throat. "How do we want to handle identities?"

"I'm good to reveal, but that means much less for me than for all of you," Contract offered. Now she did sound smug, like she knew something they didn't.

"Is there anyone opposed to a universal reveal, assuming the new cape is also up for it?" Clockblocker asked with authority, and okay, Intrepid could see why they might want to trade Rory for Dennis. Everyone glanced at each other, but no one protested. Clockblocker nodded, satisfied, then continued.

"Why don't we go suit up in case she doesn't want to reveal, and then we can meet back here?" They scattered to their individual rooms to do as suggested, but Intrepid stayed at the table since he was already dressed for his patrol later. The others were back surprisingly quickly, even Gallant who had to climb into his power armor. Once they were all reassembled, Clockblocker turned to Triumph and asked him, "Did you have anything else you wanted to cover?"

"Well, there's the new protocols…" Triumph sort of trailed off, and Clockblocker picked up his train of thought, turning to the rest of the table.

"The PRT is taking this opportunity to introduce a number of new protocols. Some are in response to the situation with Sophia, and some are by my recommendation to generally improve communication among the team. We're going to be sending more alerts by PRT phone message, not just readiness alerts. So, for example, when there's an incident at Winslow and Intrepid has to respond, we'll all get alerts too even though we're across town so that we know there is something going on with our teammate."

"And when one of our own moves across town into the Wards' base on a permanent basis?" Vista asked pointedly. Contract rolled her eyes dramatically.

"My apologies. For the record, I now live in my bunk. Can we focus on the new protocols?"

Clockblocker obliged her and continued. "We are also going to move to three man patrols so that we can venture a little further into gang territory and do a little more good. There will be some new reports too, but those we can discuss later before they become finalized. I'd like to give you all some input in the decisions. The new patrol roster starts next Tuesday, and we'll send it out after this briefing. Finally, we are going to schedule regular briefings every week for everything from information update to general discussion. If you guys have other ideas that you think will help the team, please don't hesitate to share them."

To Intrepid, those all sounded like very good ideas, especially in a team this size. In Texas, there had only been four Wards, and they basically only had time to patrol together on the weekends so communication was easy, but with so many more teammates, more formal communication was necessary. Right now it seemed like they sort of gave information to each other haphazardly.

"When were you planning to schedule the briefings?" Kid Win asked.

"We can discuss that. I was thinking that Tuesdays are good for most of our schedules. It's after the weekend craziness and it's typically a slow day on patrols anyway."

"We should have two or three times and rotate every week so that we're not predictably missing from the streets at the same time each Tuesday," Vista proposed.

Contract nodded, looking thoughtful. "We all get out of school early, so we could meet during that last hour of "school" when everyone already expects the Wards to be busy. I know most of us watch the Parahuman lectures during that slot, but we can find time to watch one lecture each week independently instead of together. Otherwise I'm with Vista, I think we need to avoid predictability, or else be suited and ready to roll just in case."

Gallant threw his two cents in, "I'm game for either of those."

Clockblocker had been nodding to all this, and he made a note on his phone as he said, "I'll ask Armsmaster to ask the thinkers for their opinion. That's exactly the kind of feedback I appreciate."

Intrepid wondered if he should speak up, because he didn't want to sound petty. He'd gotten the impression that the Wards here in Brockton Bay took life a lot more seriously than his old team. On the other hand, he'd been sitting on the sidelines like a wallflower, so he really should contribute something soon. "I know we're a lot busier here than in Texas, but we used to get together once a month and just relax. It helped us build teamwork faster. We watched movies, or went bowling, usually in our civilian identities. We did it once in costume, too, but that wasn't encouraged."

Vista didn't look enthusiastic, but Gallant and Kid Win seemed to like the idea. Clockblocker took in the table with a glance. "Let's set up a calendar and all put our blocked and free time on it, and see how many hours we even have to work with. We can go from there."

Before anything else could be said, the elevator gave it's warning chime for civilian identities, and conversation paused while they waited. The system counted down, and then the doors opened, revealing Director Renick and a tall, slim girl with thick black hair. She was wearing a regular jeans and a sweatshirt with a domino mask over her eyes, so she was so new she didn't even have a costume yet.

"Good morning, everyone." Director Renick greeted them, and some of the Wards mumbled hello or good morning back to him.

"We've agreed to fully reveal, if you'll reciprocate." Triumph said with gentle authority, addressing the new cape directly. It was the best impression of leadership that Intrepid had seen from him yet. She nodded her agreement. "You understand the consequences of revealing the secret identity of any cape, right?" The new cape nodded again, and Triumph waved her over to the two chairs that they'd added to the table after they changed. She and Renick each took a seat, then Triumph started the introductions. "I'm Triumph, and also Rory Christner." He took his mask off and smiled at her disarmingly.

Aegis went next, and then they continued around the table. "Aegis, or Carlos."

"Vista, Missy Biron."

"Clockblocker, Dennis."

"Contract, but I wildly prefer Fi." The new cape didn't react to Fi, so she must have been expecting to meet her, which wasn't impossible, but it also wasn't how Intrepid himself would have reacted to an S-class cape introducing themselves so casually.

"Intrepid, Jason." The new cape looked a little startled, and he wondered if she had encountered him in his civilian identity. She did seem sort of familiar.

"Kid Win. And Chris."

"Gallant, or Dean." He was sitting next to her, so he reached over and shook her hand. She smiled and blushed under the mask.

"I'm ah, Taylor Hebert." She took of the mask, and Jason felt his jaw drop a little. "I don't have a cape name yet." Jason forced himself not to blurt out anything that would embarrassing for either of them.

After barely a beat he managed, "Hey Taylor." He grinned at her and she smiled back.

"Um, hi Jason." Taylor seemed to be shocked, which was good because it meant she hadn't guessed his identity. He glanced at Fi, but she was grinning like the cat who had caught the canary, which reminded Jason that she had already spilled her secret to Taylor three weeks ago. Had she known then that Taylor was a cape?

The moment stretched awkwardly, and Jason realized that he had no idea what Taylor did or didn't know about Sophia's full story. When she had talked to himself and Fi at school, she had focused more on Emma Barnes. He tried to catch Fi's eye, but it seemed like everyone was glancing at each other, trying to figure out how to approach the elephant in the room.

As usual, Contract decided to take the bull by the horns. "It's good to see you again, Taylor. Do you mind if I help the rest of the team catch up a bit?" Taylor shrugged, and Contract immediately turned toward Clockblocker.

"I revealed my cape identity to Taylor at the end of February for my own reasons. On Thursday, the father of one of Shadow Stalker's co-conspirators confronted Taylor about the PRT involvement in his daughter's case, thinking that she might be a parahuman and thereby responsible for the trouble that Emma was facing. That data was all Taylor needed to figure out Shadow Stalker's identity.

"Yesterday, she brought her suspicions to me. I didn't confirm anything, but I couldn't exactly deny it either. I went to Armsmaster and convinced him to get special permission for full disclosure. Then I got together with Taylor. Once she had all the facts, Taylor decided to join the Wards."

"So what do you do?" Vista asked, while the rest of the team reeled under the information dump. Jason at least knew most of the names, and he was having trouble following the obviously condensed version of events. He made sure to smile at Taylor, at least, since he was glad to see her.

"I control bugs." Taylor waved a hand and eight lady bugs drifted out of folds in her clothing and started following the tip of her finger. After a moment, she dropped her hand and the bugs kept performing clearly unnatural acrobatics, until they each landed in front of a different Ward. "Everything in a block radius."

"That's awesome," Kid Win said, leaning forward to investigate his bug.

"So you don't have a name yet?" Vista asked.

"Everything I've come up with is taken, villainous, creepy, or some combination thereof. I'm considering Buzz or Weaver, but they don't really feel right."

"PR can probably help with that," Intrepid offered, wanting to put Taylor at ease. In addition to the fact that she was the closest thing he really had to a friend at Winslow, she was a nice girl and he genuinely wanted to help.

"PR is going to have a field day." Vista countered, laughing slightly. "Don't worry, we'll help where we can, but your power set is going to cause headaches for marketing. We'll work it out, but I'm looking forward to the challenge." Intrepid had noticed that Vista tended to enjoy bucking authority in non-harmful ways. He wondered if it was just her frustration with being the youngest but most experienced, or if there was other factors he hadn't learned yet.

"Thanks." Taylor grinned at Vista and she grinned back. Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at Intrepid. He wondered if she was having a hard time reconciling him with her school friend, because he was struggling to picture Taylor, the bullying victim, as a cape.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear any of that," Renick tossed in. "Before I leave you in Triumph's hands for orientation, I want to discuss deployment with all of you. With Taylor we now have two Wards at Winslow again, but Taylor won't be ready for the field for a few weeks at least. Besides the PR issues, she's still making her costume. Additionally, Contract has requested to be based out of the Wards headquarters, which has been granted for now."

Renick sighed, "Unfortunately, all this leaves a gap at Winslow. Even once Taylor is active, the past weeks have shown a need for more presence at Winslow. So we will be looking for another Ward to volunteer to transfer. We will also be looking into rapid deployment options for Contract to get to Winslow or anywhere else in case of need. The gangs have been quiet, but that won't last forever. I'll let you discuss it among yourselves, but I need an answer by next Sunday afternoon or I'll have to decide."

With that, he stood and left the room. In Texas, the Wards' deputy director had been much more active in the leading of the team, but Renick was either too busy or else trusted his team leader.

Once he was gone, Triumph took control again. "Well, Taylor, do you have questions for the team before we move into your orientation?"

"Um, not really. I mean, I don't really know that much about anyone except the basic power information that I read last night after I decided to join, but I guess that will come with time, right?"

"Right. We'll have time to chat later. Come on." He lead her over to the private office that was attached to the main room and shut the door behind them. As soon as the knob clicked, Clockblocker turned on Contract.

"You should have told us when you compromised your identity."

"As I understand cape law, my identity is my businesses, as is my decision to disclose it."

Normally, Intrepid would tend to support Contract over Clockblocker, but in this case the soon-to-be leader was right. "But we're your teammates. How can we have your back if you're out taking unnecessary risks?"

"Especially when _you_ don't care about the risk, and _we_ don't know about it," Clockblocker tacked on.

"Jason knew," she snapped out.

"After the fact!" Jason defended, "After it was too late to do anything. And when I asked you about it, and you said you had it under control. I thought you had a personal reason to trust Taylor. But I have to agree with Clockblocker, it sounds like you didn't care about the risk."

"I cared about the risk. I just cared more about the information it conveyed." Contract held up a hand when Clockblocker opened his mouth to interrupt. "Hear me out." He sat back a little, and Jason forced himself to swallow his response too. "From the minute I met Shadow Stalker, my gut said there was something wrong. And as soon as I went into Winslow, I knew she was targeting Taylor. Any of you would have, if you'd seen what I did. She had no reason to hide what she was doing like she did here on the Wards. Jason certainly agreed with me.

"So I knew a Ward was harassing a single individual, and that's _all_ I knew. I sought out Taylor to get a read on her, and when she told me that she was the victim I believed her whole sale. But I could also tell that she was keeping a secret. I couldn't just stand by and watch the situation. Maybe Taylor was an Empire member, and Sophia felt she had to strike first to protect herself. Maybe Sophia was a sociopath. I didn't know, but I needed to find out. So I poked the status quo. I gave Taylor my cape name just to see how she'd react."

"And she gave you the bullying records," Jason put in, remembering the first time he'd been introduced to Taylor. Contract nodded.

Clockblocker pulled them back on track before they could start to tangent. "So why not tell us then? Why not warn us that you were compromised, and talk to us about Sophia?"

"For one thing, you didn't hear me out two weeks ago when I tried to raise the issue. For another, at that point I had already guessed that Taylor was a cape. That was the secret that I had picked up on, and the reason I gave her my name in the first place. I couldn't risk breaking the law by exposing the secret identity of a minor. I was hamstrung. So I worked around the obstacles. I'm sorry for the way it happened, but I didn't enjoy it any more than you're enjoying hearing about it. I just didn't know what else to do."

"Next time, trust us," Clockblocker insisted.

"Like you trusted me?" She shot back, a little viscously. Clockblocker cringed, then got angry, but Contract was already lifting her hand again in the same 'stop' motion as before. "I'm sorry, that was unfair. You took your leap of faith."

She dropped her hand and looked away from Clockblocker, encompassing all of them. "I'm sorry. I'm _trying_ to trust you." She met Intrepid's eyes solidly. "I am."

Intrepid nodded solemnly, believing her. As much as Contract hadn't told them, Jason did believe that she was trying, and she was sharing some secrets, at least with him. Before he could decide what to say, Vista spoke up. "I'm glad. You _can_ trust us. And you know it goes both ways. We trust you too."

"I know. And I'll get better."


	16. Dress To Impress

**AN:** This is one of my favorite chapters so far. Hope you all enjoy it!

Also, this story is now being posted on SpaceBattles as well. FF will continue to be the "official" version, and it will take couple weeks for the version on SB to catch up to this one. I prefer FF because I have more experience with this site, but I understand that some of my readers prefer SB.

 **Chapter Sixteen: Dress to Impress**

 **March 16, 2011**

Glenn Chambers loved his job. He thrived on the politics, the unique personalities and people he got to meet, as well as the secrets that he knew. He liked feeling like he was part of something great, and that he was underestimated by those around him. He had overheard, and been told, some of the greatest secrets of the greatest heroes. He had crafted many heroes into their present greatness, just by understanding how the human mind (and human masses) functioned.

Recently, however, Glenn felt that he'd had his work cut out for him. First, he was given the job to market a teenage defeater of an Endbringer, who had no interest in being marketed. After extensive arguing, he had been forced to concede and allow her to keep her "practical" jeans. It was a crime. Of course, the PRT budget was loving it. Contract-style jeans with bold white stitching and the crisscross pockets had become a hit overnight and the PRT had licensed the design to a major clothing company for a cut of the profit. In New York City on any given day he passed twenty or thirty teenagers dressed exactly like the hero herself, many of them even with the right body size and hair color.

Now he was being flown out to Brockton Bay to try to convince her in person of changes that she had flat refused through video chat. While there, Rebecca had also asked him to look into the marketing of the most recent addition to the Brockton Bay Wards. Taylor, he had many ideas for. He could only hope she wasn't as stubborn as Contract.

As he arrived at the PRT building, he held the door open for a young woman wearing headphones and a ball cap. The front desk directed him to the Ward's elevator, and when he went to push the button, it was already lit. The young woman was texting, waiting for the car. They got in together, as Glenn tried to figure out what a young civilian was doing, headed to the Wards. As soon as the door shut, Contract took off her cap and scanned her retina, then put the cap back on and put away her phone.

"Hey Glenn. Nice to see you again."

"Contract," he returned neutrally, seeing where she would choose to take the conversation.

"Please, call me Fi." The name was new to him, but Glenn smiled and shook her hand. A more friendly impression and informal address would probably help their working relationship. Usually he preferred to use the cape names of his clients, to put them in the cape mindset, but since that had gotten him nowhere with Contract so far, he was willing to try a new battlefield.

"Fi. I didn't notice you."

"I know. I can walk around town in full costume, and as long as my mask is in my purse and I wear a hat of some sort, no one notices. But if I spot trouble, the transformation is as simple as hiding the purse and cap and donning the mask." Glenn was well aware of the lack of presence invoked by Contract's costume, but chose not to say anything.

"Were you waiting for me? I don't need an escort you know. I have been here before."

"Of course. I just came back from the Boardwalk. I asked Taylor if I could sit in on her briefing with you. I've got a couple of ideas for her."

The elevator arrived and she headed straight for the private office attached to the Ward's main conference room . As she did so, she motioned to a girl who had been sitting at the table, reading. "Join us, Taylor." Glenn wasn't sure if Fi was purposefully taking charge, or if the power play was unconscious.

The gangly fifteen year old followed them into the room, and Glenn took the seat of authority behind the desk. "My name is Glenn Chambers, I am the head of Public Relations for the Protectorate and Wards."

Taylor blushed as she shook his hand, obviously nervous. "I'm Taylor Hebert. I, ah, don't have a cape name yet."

"Yes, they told me." He gave her a large smile and it seemed to put her at ease. "Do you have any top contenders?"

"Um, I've been playing with the idea of a name that's not directly bug related, like Buzz or Weaver?"

Glenn didn't frown, but both names were soft, compared to her power. Given the natural fear and disgust inspired by swarms of insects, it might prove necessary to control the public perception of Taylor's power, but there was no need to downplay her abilities. She could become a very powerful hero, and she might even help bridge public opinion between regular heroes and case 53s. It would be nice to give her something a little stronger. On Taylor's right, Fi hummed, evidently dissatisfied.

"I get why you wouldn't want to be Lady Bug or Butterfly. Too soft. And Spider and Wasp are a little harsh, but what about a name like Beetle? Or a collective noun like Swarm or Colony?"

"Swarm is too villainous," Taylor protested.

Glenn wasn't sure he agreed, but he never forced a name on a cape. He frequently had to discourage capes from choosing bad names, but pushing a cape into name they didn't like usually meant that they up changing eventually. That, in turn, left a bad impression on the public.

"I happen to know that Colony is taken." He'd considered that one too, and liked it. "But Beetle is free."

Taylor didn't look happy, but Contract wasn't done yet.

"Okay, between Beetle, Buzz, and Weaver, which do you like least?"

"Weaver, I guess. It doesn't fit as well."

"And it might give away details about your costume. You should hold onto that information as long as possible, since knowledge is power. I have to admit, I prefer Beetle. I think it will fit with your overall image. I saw your suit when you brought it in yesterday, Taylor. It's intense, which is good, but you want to control that intensity. If you dye it with a little purple or blue, it will _look_ like a beetle. The sketches you showed us of the mask are very beetle-like too."

"Not Buzz?" Taylor asked, but it seemed more like she was double checking than protesting. Contract shrugged, and Glenn let her talk. He could live with a Ward named Beetle, and he was learning a lot about Contract just by watching her interact.

"You need a name you can grow into. I know you don't want something pretentious like Hive Queen or Queen Bee, but the fact is that you don't want to make Kid Win's mistake either. He's going to have to graduate names at some point, and I think Buzz could do that to you too. Granted, it's way better than some of the alternatives. It's probably one of my top five names, out of the ones we've discussed. But to me, something about Beetle seems a little stronger, a little more mature, than Buzz.

"Plus, Beetle has the advantage that it isn't not a bug that people immediately think of as deadly, scary, or dangerous. It will explain your costume and powers right off, but only the obvious stuff. It's simple and distinctive.

"It's also a name with some symbolism. Scarabs and stag beetles are ancient symbols representing a whole host of meanings. They were said to represent rebirth out of death, the rising of the sun, scholarship, priesthood, and knowledge. They were symbols of divinity and of crossing boundaries because they both fly and burrow." Glenn noted that Taylor was interested now. Contract had put a lot of thought into her suggestion, but she presented it in casual tone of voice, and she was reeling Taylor in.

"Really?"

"Yes. There are several creation myths that say a beetle created the world or was the first creation, and the Egyptians had three different beetle-gods: Khepri, Ptah and Neith. All three were supremely important, and in fact the Scarab was one of the hieroglyphs used in the Egyptian alphabet. Guess which letter it represented."

"I don't know."

"The letter T." For some reason, that seemed to sell Taylor on the idea. Glenn wasn't sure why it would matter to her, other than the coincidence of her own initial, but Contract had somehow known it would be convincing. Glenn found that very interesting. For a cape that had refused to market herself, she certainly understood the idea very well. First, because her plan for Taylor did seem to be a good marketing plan. But her proficiency was also demonstrated in the way she was presenting the idea to Taylor, peeling off each layer of reasoning like a showman.

"What about using one of the names of the gods?" he asked, mostly to feel out Taylor's reaction, and see how Contract would react to his influence in the conversation. Contract helpfully jumped in with more details.

"Egyptian mythology is incredibly tangled, I'd argue even more tangled than Roman mythology, but the basic outline is that Khepri was the god of the rising sun, Ptah was a god of earth and in certain periods also of creation, metal working, craftsmanship, and death. Neith was a warrior goddess of the sky, water, creation etcetera and Ptah's wife or female counterpart." Taylor was obviously growing less interested, and Contract shrugged. "Personally, I'd just stick with Beetle. Easy to say and spell. Keep it simple."

"I like it," Taylor said. "I can be Beetle."

"Then I dub thee, Beetle." Contract offered Taylor a high-five and she took it. Glenn let them have their fun, then sent Taylor to fetch the partially finished suit. Contract sat back, looking satisfied, and didn't speak again for the rest of Taylor's session.

When he held the costume in his hands, he was impressed, and he told Taylor so. She explained the methodology behind both the weaving and the armor panels. Then they talked about her sketches for a mask. Glenn found himself more and more pleased the with name Beetle.

The costume was dark and edgy, and while the mandibles on the jaw would offer Taylor important protection, they would also serve to dehumanize her. A softer name like Weaver would have been an uncomfortable fit, and a harsher name could have made her seem villainous.

Surprisingly, Beetle actually made the outfit less scary, because it made it relatable to a known and familiar phenomenon, instead of letting the audience dwell on the humanoid insect. Glenn was able to easily persuade Beetle into using a metallic dye to increase the name association. After doing some online research, they decided to go with greens on the silk and purples on the armor panels. The costume would still come out dark, but that was unavoidable anyway with the construction.

"Now, Beetle, we need to talk about your arsenal. It's one thing to use black widows as your own personal seamstress, but it would only take one severe reaction in the field to have extreme consequences."

"I know." Taylor said. "I can sense what sort of bugs I have in range and sort the commands based on the type of bug. So I can order all the flies to attack without moving a single wasp."

"That's good to hear. What sort of tactics have you come up with?"

Taylor shrugged. "Tons of stuff. I'm practicing scouting and tracking people by using my sense of their positioning. I can't hear or see clearly yet, but I can gather a lot of data with just the tactile information. We've also discussed the possibilities of making decoy figures, but it only works if there's not much light. It might work better with more insects, but I'm trying to avoid drawing attention to myself yet. I'm also practicing carrying objects, setting up webs to act as trip-wire alerts, and basic distractions with swarming enemies and such. If I have enough warning, I can use a swarm like a very small blaster, but it's not very efficient…"

Glenn held up a hand to cut her off. "That's an excellent start. But I want you to do something for me. In addition to the tactical considerations you team has you working on, like preparation, I want you to think about what the public reaction would be if your tactics showed up on YouTube. I'm not saying what you have is bad, necessarily, but I want you to think about the possible consequences anyway."

He could see that she starting to deflate, losing the excitement she'd had when she rattled off her ideas. "I'm not saying you shouldn't use these ideas. But your power naturally lends itself to inspiring a certain level of fear. That can be very good, because you'll be able to intimidate enemies without having to cause actual harm. But I want us to be prepared just in case the public reacts badly. To be clear, I don't think it's likely. I'm going to be passing your case onto your local PR representative, and I wouldn't do that if I was worried. Just think about it."

"Thanks. Thank you for your time and advice." A little of her eagerness had returned, and he returned her wide smile as he shook her hand.

"Of course. Now go get started, Beetle. I need to talk to Contract for a bit." Belatedly, Glenn forced himself to remember to call Contract by her new name of Fi. The girl in question was still leaning back in her chair, looking fully at ease, as Taylor left them alone.

"Is there a problem, Glenn?"

"Several. Would you like to start with your costume or your PHO activity?"

"We can start wherever you like, but I don't see either of those as a problem."

"Why not?"

"I offered truthful, friendly banter. I made myself accessible. Everything you were harping on a month ago, I did. I opened up. I let people in." Even as she said so, she crossed her arms in front of herself. Glenn wasn't formally trained in psychiatry, but he knew enough to read Contract. She was putting space and barriers between them. She was bracing for battle.

He tried to throw her off guard, to get in before she shut him out. "You made yourself seem harmless."

"That was the general idea." He was surprised to see that she was almost smug. "I put considerable effort into it. The press release, the costume, the PHO chatter."

"Why? You walked into the PRT today and no one even noticed!"

"Exactly. I don't want to be an action hero. I don't want to be some kid's plastic toy idol and I don't want to be Rebecca's attack dog or insurance policy. I won't be the Protectorate's ace in the hole. I can't."

"Fi, you took down an Endbringer." He purposely prodded her to see how she'd react, and as he expected, her hostility escalated.

"I thought Armsmaster told you to use the phrase 'erased Behemoth.' In fact, I'm pretty sure I _heard_ him tell you."

"Why does it matter?"

"Because you're trying to make it sound like it's one down and two to go."

"Isn't it?"

" _Sit on it and spin._ " The utter vitriol in her tone shocked him, and he carefully sat back, mirroring her posture and giving her more space. It was one thing for him to purposefully wind her up, it was another to push her over a line and make himself her permanent enemy.

She wasn't looking at him anymore, instead staring at the blank wall to her left, away from the open door. Through that opening, Glenn saw that Gallant and Clockblocker had both looked up, evidently hearing some or all of their argument. He decided to ignore them, and deal with the situation at hand first.

He started with a deep sigh, to warn Contract that he was about to speak.

"I'm sorry for pushing you so hard, Fi. I was hoping that I could get you to tell me what this is really about. I'm a good judge of people, and from the moment I met you I've never seen you relaxed. Something is tearing you up, and I can't help you if I don't know what that is."

She didn't move or speak or give any indication that she was listening, but a muscle in her jaw was twitching ever so slightly. Maybe she was chewing on her tongue.

After a minute, Glenn continued.

"I know very little about you, Fi. You don't really give us much to work with. But I'm not an idiot. I can see that you're not either. You did a really good job with Taylor just now. You helped her craft an identity that she will likely use and be comfortable in for the rest of her life. You gave the freedom to define herself, and helped build up her self-confidence at the same time. You just shaped her future." He could feel that he was losing her, so he decided to take a risk and voice one of his long-standing suspicions about her costume choice.

"Do you really want to spend the rest of your life in blue jeans because it's what you _happened_ to be wearing on the last day of January?" At that, she looked over at him. It wasn't a friendly look, but it was something.

He continued cautiously, "Jeans, a simple blouse, a jacket, and tennis shoes. Socks that had a grey ring at the top. No armor, no protection, nothing that was out of place except a simple leather mask, easy to fold up and carry, maybe even carry every day as a matter of habit. You weren't intending to erase Behemoth, were you?" Glenn forced himself to use her wording.

She didn't answer, looking back at the wall instead. Despite that, something in her posture made Glenn sure that he was on the right track, and she was listening. He had to make a choice. Did he use the speculation that Dragon had shared with him? He decided to take the plunge.

"What did you really give up to erase Behemoth?" Her head whipped back toward him so fast, he was pretty sure that she would feel it later. Still, she didn't speak. "I saw the tape from your meeting that Friday. I read the press release and I talked to Armsmaster. I've heard from Dragon and Company. Everyone is convinced that you gave up your family.

"But as far as I can tell, you've never explicitly stated it. You say you can't go back. You say that you have to stay here. But you haven't straight out said that you traded one for the other. I think that you have your own reasons for staying away from your family. I think it's related to Behemoth, but I don't think it was the direct cost. I think it's a side effect.

"I think you want to stay in blue jeans because every minute of every day, you're thinking about going home. You're considering it. You're trying to figure out if you can go home without releasing Behemoth. You're looking for a loop hole, and you want to be ready to bolt when you find it.

"You don't want to be tied down to a name, or a mask, or a celebrity status. You don't want obligations. You don't want people depending on you. You want to convince us all that you're a regular girl, a one-trick pony who's all washed up. You could be an inspiration, a symbol, a force for change and you are _throwing it all away_."

He leaned forward, and was satisfied when she didn't shift to put more space between them. He had her hooked. Now to reel her in slowly. "I understand why you might feel that way. But what if you could have both? When you find your loophole, your family can join you here. You can be a hero, build a legacy, without giving up on your past. Let us be your family for now. Be an inspiration, make a difference, use your influence, and when the time comes, your family will have all the more reason to be proud of you."

He spent a moment gaging her reaction. Some of the tension had drained away, and her head was tilted just slightly forward. She was ready to talk. "What do you say? Will you let me help?"

"Christo." She said the strange word calmly, quietly, under her breath, like it was an involuntary reaction. After a moment, she continued a little louder. "You're serious." She was staring at him, looking more perplexed than anything else. "You really want to clean house. Shake things up."

She sat forward in the chair, slowly becoming eager. "You see it, but you can't get at the cancer directly. You need a cape. A lightening rod. You're a Cinna."

Glenn found that he had lost control of the conversation, and sat back slowly as a way to gain a moment of thought. Although he did have some reservations about the PRT, he hadn't been thinking of that sort of inspiration when he'd tried to reach out to her. On the other hand, if this is what it took to get Contract engaged, he should probably use it. He tried to be flattered by the comparison and not remember that Cinna had been killed to make a political point.

Fortunately, he didn't have to decide exactly what to say, because Contract wasn't finished yet. "You're not one of them. Not in the know." She laughed, still staring at Glenn intently, sizing him up. "Okay, Glenn, I'm listening. Tell me how dressing in bright green is going to help me clean house."

Glenn scrambled for his footing. "It's not about the costume specifically. It's about investing in your career as a hero. It seems to me, that when you put your mind to something, you're very good at it. You did well with Beetle, and the PHO stuff hasn't been all bad. Knowing that you are purposefully projecting yourself as harmless, well, you've done a good job. What if you turned those energies toward, as you said, cleaning house. What would _you_ do?"

Glenn wasn't entirely sure what all of Contract's little speech had been about. He _was_ frustrated with the state of the PRT, the complacency, and the corruption that he suspected in certain departments. He did hope that making Contract more invested would help fix that in a subtle, gradual way. Contract seemed to be talking about a wider-spread issue, but if it got her focused he was willing to deal with the specifics later. Contract sat back little as she considered his question, and Glenn hoped that they'd be able to find some common ground.

Finally, Contract spoke. "Was it Dragon or Company who told you to push my buttons?"

Glenn found himself thrown off track again, surprised, though he tried not to show it. "Neither. I mentioned to Company that I might try to get under your skin to get a reaction, and he said if I did that he would appreciate a brief memo on how it went."

"I'd be very indebted if you didn't write that memo. Obviously, I can't stop you, but I really don't like that guy, and I hate that everyone is reporting to him." Glenn nodded absently, wondering where the conversation was headed next. "Dragon did tell you about my family, though, didn't she? She was the one who told you that there was some other cost for Behemoth?"

"Yes," Glenn admitted, but that didn't seem to upset Contract any further. Instead, she settled back, this time seeming to do it to be comfortable rather than because she needed the space.

"That woman is sharp." She sighed. "She's also not all wrong. The situation is complicated, and I wasn't consciously looking to run, but… she's got a point. So do you. If I was focused on investing in myself as a hero, well, you probably still wouldn't be tickled pink. I'm never going to be a conventional hero. I'm too practical for tights or a leotard. But we might be able to find a compromise."

"So let's compromise." Glenn refocused, and took out some of the sketches he had prepared. He had known he was facing an uphill battle and had a series of small modifications to suggest. Together, they would help change her overall image. "I work with practicality. Let's start with the basics. Do you still want to go with blue and white?"

"Yes. The white is negotiable, but I don't see why the denim should have to be. It's strong, flexible, and if it becomes necessary I can hide an under-suit beneath it." She paused, but Glenn waited for her to continue while she gathered her thoughts.

"What if we made the boots knee-high instead of only half-calf, and I could wear them on the outside of the jean? Use a skinny boot cut jean instead of the current flare. That would make the lower half of my body more protected, even from small particles, depending on how tight the fit is. It won't stand up to gas, but I have other methods I can use for a last resort on that front." As she spoke, she sketched over one of his computer-rendered drawings that had experimented with white pants.

"I'd like an inch and half of heel built into the boot, not as a stiletto but as a natural lift. For one, I've got a lot of practice moving in a just a bit of extra height, and I've got horrible arches so the extra shape won't slow me down. Plus, with my natural build, I tend to be the shortest person in the room. It'd be nice to be a touch taller."

She picked up his suggestions and flipped through them, stopping on one in particular the first time she saw it. She showed it to him so he'd know what she was looking at. It was one of his personal favorites. "I like the long-sleeved white here. We could use leather, maybe? I think it could be even more form-fitting, assuming it remained flexible. I don't want to limit range of motion, but I do want to give the impression that there can't be anything concealed beneath."

"What are you putting beneath it?" Glenn asked, not fooled by her very specific wording.

"A flat blade, as soon as I can get clearance from Armsmaster, and a spider-silk shirt once Taylor has the time to make one. I'll go from there." She suddenly looked up from the modifications she was drawing and grinned at Glenn. "Don't worry about putting in hidden pockets or whatever. I can do the concealment myself."

"Is that a good use of your power?" He asked, concerned. It had been stressed to him that Contract's power expenditure was to be kept to a minimum.

"I have a lot of practice, and it doesn't require my power."

"I find that vaguely disturbing," he teased, and he was rewarded with a small smile that was somehow more genuine than her enthusiastic grins.

Contract shrugged. "I think it would be good to have optional gloves, dyed to match the jeans. And I could live with a dark blue mask, if you honestly think it's better than the white."

"This costume is bolder, but it's still very close to blending in on the street."

Contract smirked. "I once walked through a black-tie event wearing a sweatshirt and shorts and nobody blinked an eye. _That's_ why no one saw me earlier. If I don't want to be seen, I won't be. The opposite is true too. I can make anything look good. Let me try this on for you, and prove it. When I step onto the street as Contract, I guarantee that no one will mistake me for a civilian."

"Okay, we'll give it a try. Now, what are we going to do about Parahumans Online?"

"I can't take back what's there. I don't want to. I believe heroes should be accessible to the people."

"And when you hit your first PR bump?"

"We should be accountable too."

"The web is a dangerous place, PR wise. It's hard to control or predict."

"It's raw and personal. This is important to me, Glenn. I want to be accountable online."

"We can try it for a while longer. But I want two promises."

"I'm listening."

"You have to do a TV and paper interviews as well. And if I tell you to go dark or retract something, you do it first and _then_ argue with me about it. We can discuss those decisions, but only if we pull the information first, and then talk. The longer it sits there, the more dangerous it is."

"I can live with that."

"Good. Your first interview is Friday at five o'clock. It's not live, but we will have to hurry to have your costume available on time. After that, we will schedule an interview for all the new Brockton Bay Wards. That likely will be live."

"I can live with that, too. Any chance of screening the questions?"

"What happened to be accountable to the people?"

"I don't have a problem claiming information is confidential, but the TV crew might prefer if it didn't happen live. It could be real mood-killer."

"I'll see what I can do."

"Was there anything else you wanted, Glenn?"

"No. I think that's all."

"Okay, well, I'd like to say something." She took a deep breath to gather her thoughts. "I appreciate that you're trying to help and do your own job. And circumstances being what they are, information about me is very valuable. What you said here today… you weren't all wrong.

"The cost I paid for Behemoth was exorbitant, bigger than anything I've hinted, though you probably don't believe that. Technically speaking, I am not strictly forbidden from contact with my family, but I might as well be. The barriers between us are only be a consequence of that cost, but it doesn't matter. Even if there was a loop hole, I couldn't take it for fear of invalidating the contract.

"I don't like talking about this. I have been changed in fundamental, permanent ways. And no matter how much I think about it, I can't find a safe way home. So you don't have to worry about me running off. And I'd really appreciate it if you would keep this between us. Trying to explain this to everyone, I just… I just can't."

"I understand." Glenn knew this was a flat lie, there was a lot going on that he didn't understand, but he would still try to help her. "We're not trying to get you in trouble or make things difficult. I want to help. If you say that you can't talk about it, then that's that. You don't have to. I promise."

"Everyone says that and then they just keep poking." Contract sounded broken, and Glenn suddenly wondered how much of her earlier anger had been actual anger and how much was just the rawness of all her emotions.

Glenn sighed. "I'll talk to Dragon. She shared her suspicions with me in confidence, and if anyone is a match for Company, she is." Glenn had caught her preference for Dragon over Company early on, when she was still living in New York, and since he knew he had to report this to someone, he'd prefer to do what he could to ease her mind. He could afford to let the decision to pass the information on be Dragon's call instead of his.

"Thanks."

"Don't worry, Contract. Like I said, we're here to help you."

She nodded, then looked up with a certain sharpness that did not put him at ease. "About that, Glenn. Do you think Contract is a good name?"

The question caught him flat-footed, again. He'd never thought about changing her name, because it was one of the few details she had given them voluntarily. "Well, it's been over a month, so changing it wouldn't be simple."

"But it's doable. We both know that. What do you think?"

"There's nothing related to your power that jumps to mind. A lot of energy capes already exist, and I don't find dealer, lawyer, or compromise any more inspiring than contract. Covenant has already been used. The cape in question is dead, but using it would be seen as bad taste, because he died in an attack by Leviathan. All the classic names like Hero and Legend have been used."

"What about Sacrifice?" For half a second, Glenn thought it was a brilliant idea. It was an emotional, inspirational sort of name that tied into her power and hadn't been used yet. It wouldn't be difficult to roll it out when she rebranded herself with the new costume, and it was more fitting for an S-class cape than Contract was.

But before he answered, he caught a glimpse of something in Contract's posture. She was sitting slumped back, as she had been for a while, and her arms were still resting crossed across her chest. It should have been casual, but something about her suddenly seemed enormously weary, and he was reminded of her emotional fragility. It was like she was both holding herself together, and already slumped in surrender.

Without knowing exactly how, Glenn was sure that she didn't mean "sacrifice" to refer to her costs. She meant it to refer to herself. "Is that how you see yourself?" he asked carefully. Contract had been so self-assured and forceful, that it was hard for him to reconcile this hurting girl with the hero he'd been working with.

There had been signs, of course, but her constant self-confidence had fooled him into ignoring them. It was hard to see a teenager stand up to _Legend_ and berate him for licensing her symbol without her prior permission and realize that she wasn't looking for a cut of the profit, but instead feeling betrayed and used. It was just one memory that was taking on a new light, and Glenn wondered what else they had all missed.

She shrugged and glanced away. For a moment, he thought she'd shut down and wouldn't answer. But he waited patiently, not pushing her any further. Finally, she spoke quietly, almost reluctantly. "It's just… I _erased Behemoth_. That was supposed to be impossible. It saved millions of lives. I guess I expected a little gratitude, or respect or something.

"Instead everyone just wants to know what I plan to do about the other two. I'm reeling and lost and I feel like… like I gave up a kidney and everyone wants to know how long before I drop dead so they can take the rest. Some people want my heart, some people just want my clothes, but I feel like they've already taken everything that makes me, _me_.

"I keep thinking about the word Holocaust. It used have religious meaning, a long time ago, before it was re-defined. It referred to a sacred sacrifice to God for cleansing and purification. I sort of feel like that's me. Both the idea, and the re-definition. I know I couldn't name myself Holocaust but… Contract just seems sort of small. It doesn't really encompass everything I'm going through, every time I put on that mask."

"Do you worry that by naming yourself Sacrifice, you might surrender to that redefinition?" Glenn asked quietly. He was concerned about the effect a name change could have on her mental health. Giving up another piece of herself, one that she had used at least online for six years, couldn't be good.

"I don't know. I hadn't thought about it."

"Why don't you take a day and think it over, maybe discuss it with your teammates if you want to? I'll try to think of some other options for you, and we can talk tomorrow, if this is what you really want. But personally, I like the name Contract. I don't think a re-naming is necessary in the least. If you want to change, we can make it happen, but I don't think you should rush into this."

"Okay. You're right, we shouldn't be hasty. Thanks." She seemed distracted, but she sat up a little more and he took that as a good sign.

"Of course. And Fi, your privacy is safe with me. We'll call it Cinna-Tribute privilege." She smiled, and it was surprisingly open and genuine, even if it wasn't the biggest smile he'd ever seen. Mentally, he resolved to refer to her as Fi even in his own thoughts so that he wouldn't forget in the future.

"I'll consider the name Tribute too." Her smile grew a little, indicating that it was humorous.

Glenn laughed as he gathered his papers and stood. "Walk me out?"

"To the elevator, at least."

Briefly, as he rode the elevator up alone, he considered writing a memo to Company. Not telling him everything, but just to let him know that he had tried pushing Contract and didn't recommend the results. In the end, he decided not to. There were a lot of justifications, everything from letting Dragon handle the situation to embarrassment that he had actually pushed a minor as hard as he did, but the real reason was that he just didn't feel like breaking Cinna-Tribute privilege.

Evidently, he was getting old and going soft 20 years early.


	17. Ya'll ready for this?

**Chapter Seventeen: Ya'll ready for this?**

 **March 18, 2011**

Friday couldn't come fast enough for Dennis. For one thing, it was Friday, which was the best day of the week, in his opinion. Secondly, he had talked to Dean and Fi, and they were going to do an early three-man patrol into a zone of neighborhoods frequently disputed by the ABB and Empire. Missy was scheduled for console, and had agreed that it was a good idea to do a single three-person higher risk patrol so that they could work out any kinks before switching over the whole team. At Dean's suggestion, Jason had also been alerted to the plan so that he could be on alert level three, which was to say that he wasn't suited up or rescheduling his day, but he was aware that he might be on call at any moment.

They met on the Boardwalk, putting in a nominal appearance and then walking toward the streets they'd identified. Gallant hovered about a foot off the ground to increase his range of vision, while Contract and Clockblocker paid closer attention to those walking near them.

The third reason that Clockblocker was looking forward to Friday was the opportunity to talk to Contract, knowing that she couldn't just leave for her room. "Can I ask you something?" he ventured as they turned off a main street to walk between two buildings, checking for any evidence of previous drug use that would indicate sellers frequented the area at other times of the day.

"Sure." Contract didn't look up from where she was crouched to shine a flashlight behind a dumpster.

"Why did you move into the base?"

That made her look up in slight confusion, then alarm. "I really can't get anything past you, can I? I'm sorry. I didn't mean…" she trailed off.

"Then it _was_ because of our deal on Tuesday," Clockblocker verified.

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

She shrugged. "Habit, I guess. I'm used to being around my brothers. Both know my costs well enough that they know when I'm not telling them everything and both have guilt complexes a mile wide, so if I choose not to say anything, they assume that I'm protecting them and we all just leave it be. They hate when I sacrifice for them, but they know I do it because I love them. I didn't really think about it. I'm sorry. Seriously. I didn't mean to hide anything from you."

Clockblocker nodded. He'd actually guessed that it was something like that. Fi seemed to be the type to suffer in silence, and he figured she'd clammed up to spare him any possible guilt. He'd asked Gallant if he should just let it be, but Dean was a major proponent of letting emotions out and working through them, rather than letting them fester. "We'll work on it together."

"I'd appreciate that," she said over her shoulder as they left the tiny alley and met up with Gallant who had gone over the building to check the roof and scout ahead. Gallant gave him a discreet nod as he descended, which Clockblocker took to mean that Contract's emotions seemed a little steadier. Gallant had explained to Clockblocker that Contract had a concerning tendency to slide mercurially from one emotion to the next, and they were hoping that as she built trust and camaraderie, she could steady out a little.

"I saw a pair of Asians that might be drug dealers leaving the next block over in a hurry as soon as they spotted me. Definitely ABB colors," Gallant reported.

"Vista?" Clockblocker checked on instinct.

"Copy that," a voice in their ear buds confirmed. "You're clear to engage."

They walked at a fast clip to the next intersection as Gallant drifted ahead at a slightly faster pace. It took three blocks to catch up to the suspicious characters. Once they were close enough, Clockblocker called out authoritatively, "Stop there, sir. In the hoodie." As a matter of fact, both of them were wearing hoodies. They glanced at each other on reflex, which allowed Gallant to get in front of them and drop down, while Clockblocker and Contract came within a few steps of striking distance.

"Where are you two headed in such a hurry?" Clockblocker barked out at them while they glanced nervously at the capes surrounding them. Now that they were closer, Clockblocker doubted that they were drug dealers. More likely, the two were new recruits or maybe just wanna-bes. They were too skittish to be actual drug dealers or hard-core gang members.

"Just gotta get home," the one on the right said.

"Game starts in ten minutes," the shorter guy on the left added hastily.

"Have you ever sold illegal substances?" Contract snapped out, abruptly.

"No." The one on the right answered immediately, taking a reflexive step back away from her sharp tone. The one on the left didn't answer, instead glancing to the left to see if he could slip past them into the street.

"What were you doing in this part of town?" Clockblocker followed up immediately, keeping the pressure on.

"Just shopping," the one on the left said, looking at his shoes. It was so obviously a lie that it was almost sad. These two hadn't been selling drugs, but they had been getting into trouble of some sort.

"What'd you buy?" Gallant asked from behind. Both boys flinched.

"Didn't find anything," the one on the right mumbled. Left-y nodded rapidly.

"Time's up guys," Vista told them over their ear buds. Ward guidelines suggested that any confrontation that didn't bear fruit in the first two minutes should be abandoned in search of more effective places to spend their energy. Clockblocker ignored her. He and Missy had often grumbled that the two minute guideline was stupid, and he was interested to see what he could get.

"Oh, can I see your watch?" Contract asked over the top of Vista's voice. She must have turned off her ear bud. Contract reached over so quickly even Clockblocker was a little startled, catching hold of left-y's left wrist to look at his watch.

"Hey!" Left-y started to protest, but Contract cut him off. She spoke slowly, calmly, looking straight into the eyes of the teenager she'd grabbed.

"You know, my uncle used to have a watch like this. Well, he had one until a thug noticed it and shot him, just so he could take it. Took them six months to catch the guy. Would have been a lot longer, but my daddy, well, he wasn't about to let his brother's murderer get away. Turns out the scumbag was a gang-banger. Took the watch to pay a tribute he owed. My daddy took his shotgun, kicked in the door of one of their dens, and killed every dealer inside. All to get his brother's watch back. He spent twenty years in prison for it. Then he gets out and starts tracking down the rest of them.

"One day he's following this lieutenant and he goes to ground with a couple of nobodies, just low-on-the-pole toadies. And my daddy kicks their door in too, takes his .45 pistol and shoots the lieutenant before he can even get up from the couch. Then he turns to the two nobodies, who start begging for their lives. They never hurt anyone. Never stole or sold a single joint, or pimped a single girl. They were just fans, really, no more than 15 years old. I'm not proud to say it, but my daddy shot them too. One after the other, clean through and through." Contract stopped, and just kept looking at Lefty, who's wrist she was still holding.

After a long moment, she continued her story. "Course, they were lucky, because he only shot them in the shoulder. Crippled them for life on the right hand side. That's the danger of being in a gang, he told them. You become a part of everything that gang does. And sure, sometimes the gang protects you, and provides for you, but sometimes the gang paints a target on your back.

"Now, I don't know who you are, or what you're doing in this part of town. But you want to run around looking like a gang member, wearing gang colors in gang territory, you better be prepared for the consequences. Next time it might be more severe than a chat with a couple of superheroes." Contract dropped her hold on the boy's wrist, but he didn't move. His friend was frozen too, both of them stuck just staring at her.

Suddenly, she smiled softly, and reached into a jean pocket. She held out two business cards. On one side was her PRT issued contact information, while the other already held a scrawled autograph in blue ink. "A memento, for your trouble. You'd best get home if you want to watch the game."

Each of them hesitantly reached out to take a card, then Gallant backed off to allow them both to leave, and they hurried away, throwing glances over their shoulders.

The Wards watched them go quietly, until they turned a corner. Then Gallant voiced what they were both thinking. "What the heck was that?"

Contract shrugged casually. "A bluff."

Clockblocker felt himself exhale in relief. Her tone and storytelling had drawn him in, making him far tenser than he realized. "So you just wanted to scare them straight?"

"Yep. And start a little misinformation cover for my family. But mostly I wanted to shake them up. ABB thinks they're untouchable because Lung is untouchable. I think it's not a bad idea to remind them that most of their gang is made of normal humans."

"And this was your best strategy?" Clockblocker asked, surprised. Clockblocker had developed some respect for Contract's tactical ability, given her successes with Taylor, Sophia, and even himself. Now he wondered how much of those circumstances had worked out because of luck, rather than her own skill.

"No, this was spur of the moment. I just wanted to scare them a little, make them think about the life choices they're making." Contract shrugged again.

"Well I think it worked," Gallant told them both. "They were sort of skeptical at first, but by the end they were honestly scared. And then when you offered them your autograph, that totally threw them off. They were a mix of scared and thoughtful when they left." Clockblocker filed away that the strategy had worked, even if it was unconventional. He'd wait to talk to Contract about whether she was relying too heavily on luck. Perhaps she was simply a better profiler than he was and had read something in the teens that he hadn't seen.

Contract nodded to acknowledge Gallant's praise, but didn't gloat. "Well, maybe it did some good. I doubt they're going to up and quit because of a single conversation, but maybe we planted a seed. At least, I doubt it did any damage." Clockblocker bobbed his head as he considered that. When viewed as a low-risk high-gain move, the conversation made much more sense.

Contract gestured back to the street. "Shall we?" They turned and walked perpendicular to the street the two ABB members had left down, assuming that they would be warning those they saw that the Wards were in the area. By walking in a different direction, however, they might be able to surprise a few criminals.

They passed a couple blocks in silence, nodding to civilians and smiling at younger children. Ahead of them, people started to turn off the street they were using or hurry more towards their destination. Clockblocker sighed to himself; his was not an uncommon reaction to the police or official heroes in poor neighborhoods because even honest people didn't want to encounter government employees. Perhaps by doing more patrols in the area and hopefully doing more good, the Wards could start to turn that perception around. Gallant drifted further north, closer to neighborhoods that were undisputed Empire territory, hoping that they'd be less alert, and Clockblocker and Contract followed.

This time, she started the conversation. "How did you pick your name?"

Clockblocker glanced at her, feeling a small blush of embarrassment, but she seemed to be honestly curious. "Well, I wanted something with the word clock. I liked the way Clock sounded as a nickname, though it's never really caught on with the Wards so far. I stumbled upon Clockblocker early in my brainstorming and it stuck out to me. It was memorable, it was funny, and it made me feel more like an adult. Before my dad got sick I was a big jokester.

"You haven't seen that as much because I've been stressed over him, and then over the team new dynamics and responsibility, but six months ago? 'Clockblocker' told you most everything you needed to know about my personality. And I liked that it would sort of stick it to the PRT. To be honest, I still like that it makes PR squirm. I'm not a huge fan of the official control and protocols, which don't seem to really be designed to help us.

"Do you regret it?"

"No. I may be growing up, but I don't ever want to fit into somebody else's mold. I like that the name is mine and no one else had a say in it. Why?"

"Something Glenn and I talked about."

"Yeah. Gallant said you were pretty upset. We didn't hear everything, but you two weren't exactly quiet. Everything okay?"

"Oh. It's two different topics." She sighed. Clockblocker half expected her to ignore his inquiry and pursue the name topic she had raised, but she didn't. "He was pushing my buttons to try to get me to slip up. Instead my temper slipped off its leash. He flat out said that he thought it should be my responsibility to deal with the other two Endbringers and that just… it jerked my tail something fierce."

"Why?"

"It's been a building frustration for a while now. I hate the ingratitude I've seen since erasing Behemoth. I did the impossible, saved thousands, probably even millions, of lives, but most of the PRT and Protectorate just take it in stride. No thanks, nothing. Just more demands. And I hate that I couldn't kill the other two if I wanted to. I've never been good with being helpless."

"They didn't thank you?"

"Not really. That's part of why I didn't tell anyone about the cost. I meant to, please believe me. I knew I'd never be able to keep it a secret and I didn't really want to. But when no one thanked me, or asked how I was doing, it just made me furious. I figured I'd have to end up a Ward because I couldn't go home, but they were intent on railroading me into it from the very beginning. It just curdles my blood."

"I admit I've never heard that phrase before," Clockblocker interjected hoping to dissipate her tension. She laughed quietly, so he counted it as a win.

"I picked it up from my brothers. They've been all over the continental US and no small part of Canada, so who knows where they found it?"

"It makes for a vivid image."

Contract grinned. "I know. I like it."

"So Glenn was pushing you purposefully," Clockblocker summarized. "Was there anything else?"

"What do you know about Company?"

Clockblocker shrugged. "Triumph has mentioned him once or twice since you showed up. He's a thinker of some sort, right?"

"Yes. He is especially adept at understanding people and the relationships between them. He's the ultimate manipulator. Fortunately, my resistance to thinkers in general seems to have stood up to his prolonged scrutiny, but I can't count on it. Glenn all but admitted that he provoked me about Behemoth because Company put him up to it. Glenn seems like a stand-up guy, so I hate that he would go along with it. I hate that _everyone_ goes along with it. I know the PRT practically conditions people to listen to thinker bullshit, but I can't abide Company. I hate the way he meddles, I hate never knowing who's reporting to him. "

"Well, I'm not."

"Thanks." She grinned at him, wide and genuine. "I figured you weren't but it's nice to be sure. And I know it's not everyone, because Armsmaster is working with Dragon and I'm pretty sure she's only loosely reporting to him. But you're the first to actually come out and volunteer it."

"Just like that, you trust me?" Clockblocker teased, but she met his eyes solidly.

"Yes. I do trust you." The statement carried a lot of weight, and Clockblocker was glad when she glanced away and changed the topic. "Which brings me back to the original question. I'm considering a name change. What do you think about Sacrifice?"

Clockblocker felt himself grimace, reflexively, even before he answered. "Not a fan. What made Glenn suggest it?"

"He didn't. In fact, he doesn't like it either. I just don't like Contract. It was never supposed to be a permanent name. Behemoth surprised me, and I gave the wristband the first name that came to mind. That just happened to be my PHO cape name."

"Well, I think Contract is better than Sacrifice."

"Duly noted. Thanks for the honesty."

"Guys," Vista chimed over the ear buds, "we've got a PHO report of Hookwolf sitting on a street corner about a mile north of your current position."

"Any ideas?" Gallant asked over the network. Contract answered immediately, so maybe she hadn't turned her ear piece off after all.

"He's challenging us. Three Wards isn't routine, so he's probably heard about our little experiment. He's waiting to see if we'll engage him."

"Then he's probably got back-up waiting out of sight," Clockblocker finished the thought aloud, already planning two moves ahead. "If we don't engage, we could pass it off as simple ignorance. Two ships passing in the night."

"He'd probably challenge the next patrol directly." Contract warned. "We're out here to try to nip this stuff in the bud, not let it fester."

"I'm game," Gallant chimed in.

"Aegis just went to suit up and stand by," Vista told them.

"Your call, Clockblocker," Contract told him. "Technically, there are warrants for his arrest. We would be legally correct to try to take him in. But he might be a little more than we can realistically swallow, especially if he brought backup. A loss on the first day out isn't exactly the start we're looking for. It's your decision."

Clockblocker nodded to acknowledge that he agreed with her assessment. They might be able to take Hookwolf, depending on what Contract brought to the table, but it was a big gamble with relatively little pay out even in the best case scenario. On the other hand, he didn't like putting the problem off to the future. It just didn't sit right.

"Let's do this. We'll start off verbal, asking him what his business is. We don't start anything physical. We leave that ball in his court. And if you see a chance for bloodless victory, Contract, you take it, but don't over extend yourself." She nodded to acknowledge the order as Gallant returned to their position so the three could approach together.

Hookwolf was standing at the corner of an alley and a street with semi-regular foot traffic, talking to an older man who might be a drug dealer and two young men who were obviously muscle. There were no civilians in sight, so he'd been standing there for a little while. All four skinheads looked up as the three Wards walked calmly up the street, and they stopped talking, but they didn't move otherwise. They just watched them walk closer. It was a little unnerving.

As they got closer, Clockblocker tried to recall exactly what Hookwolf had looked like in the pictures in his briefing file. It seemed like he was a little less human than he normally was outside of combat. Was he eager for a fight? Or was he nervous, perhaps because he _didn't_ have backup close at hand?

Clockblocker stopped when they were at a range where they'd need to raise their voices just slightly to hear each other clearly. He wanted space to maneuver in. They were technically outnumbered, but Gallant was the most mobile person on the field as the moment and he wanted to hold onto that advantage.

"Hookwolf!" Clockblocker pitched his voice to carry, even though the villain was already looking at him steadily.

"Clockblocker," Hookwolf returned evenly. His eyes flicked to Clockblocker's left, where Contract had stopped just a touch behind him. "Contract."

"Neo-Nazis." She said it so calmly that they might not have heard her, except that their smiles turned a little predatory and satisfied, so they probably had. Before they could respond, she continued. "What particular business brings you out here with a warrant on your head?"

"Who's going to enforce it? You?" Hookwolf sneered back.

Clockblocker could almost feel Contract shrug into the silence before she answered. It was amazing how casual she could be, when she wanted to. He had to force himself not to fidget, and he could hear Vista's slightly heavier breath on the comm, but Contract sounded completely cool.

"Personally, I far prefer to scalp skinheads like yourselves, but the PRT took my best hunting knife and they haven't given it back yet. Answer the question. What brings you rats out of the sewer?"

"Looking for you, sunshine," Hookwolf sneered at her. "Kaiser would like to invite you to have dinner."

Contract laughed, and it actually sounded honestly amused. Hookwolf seemed to take that as her answer, since he snarled and launched himself at her.

Hookwolf may have made the first move, but Gallant was tensed and ready, and intercepted him with a bolt of yellow light. Hookwolf hit the ground short of the group. He didn't seem to climb to his feet so much as partially reform already in a combat position as his body became more canine than human.

Clockblocker darted forward in an attempt to tag him before he could fully recover, but Hookwolf snapped and lunged forward, several hooks and loops of metal springing to the fore. Clockblocker pulled back reflexively, which gave Gallant another opening. This time Gallant's blast was a dark, vivid blue, which Clockblocker recognized as depression. Gallant managed to sustain the blast for nearly two and a half seconds, before Hookwolf rolled out of the light's path, trying to position himself to come at Gallant from the side. Gallant saw his strategy and rose up into the air sharply. Clockblocker took advantage of Hookwolf's mistake as the villain went past him, tagging him on the lower back.

And just like that, it was over. If Gallant hadn't gotten up high enough, the fight would have gone differntly, because he would have been in Clockblocker's way. Instead Hookwolf had been forced to adjust his trajectory in mid-attack, pausing for just a second while he was within Clockblocker's range.

Clockblocker took a moment to breathe deeply, then he realized that he'd lost track of Contract in the chaos.

A grunt and a wet slap drew Clockblocker's eyes back towards the other gang members. The drug dealer was down, nursing an ankle that was at least bleeding and likely broken; one of the thugs was slumped unconscious against a brick wall and the last was in a chokehold with his face slowly turning red. Clockblocker watched as he scrambled at Fi's arm with one hand while swiping at her face with the other. She didn't even flinch, just kept the pressure up for another couple seconds until his hands dropped away, still.

She lowered him to the ground almost gently and set about zip tying his hands together.

"Vista," Contract barked over the comms, "camera check. We got any other company in the area?"

"I'm not seeing anything. The PRT is on their way."

"Good. Keep a sharp eye out."

After they secured the normals, Contract approached Clockblocker where he was standing behind Hookwolf in case the villain unfroze early. She pulled a roll of thick twine out of who-knew-where. "If we drape this over our friend, and you freeze it, could it act as a cage?"

"For as long as it's frozen."

"Better than nothing, right?"

Clockblocker nodded, surprised at the simplicity of the idea, and a little disappointed he hadn't thought of it before.

"PRT is 8 minutes out." Vista supplied helpfully. "Statistically, it unlikely he's going to be frozen long enough. Additional freezes would help that."

They uncoiled the string over Hookwolf in a criss-cross pattern, then Clockblocker froze it. When they were done, Clockblocker examined their handiwork. "Next time I'll bring a sheet."

Contract nodded thoughtfully. "I can actually think of a number of ways for a sheet to be useful. Or at the very least, a large towel. A sheet might become too much like a razor when frozen, but a towel is thicker." Clockblocker acknowledged the point.

"So what did you pay?" he asked in his best casual voice.

"Nothing."

He looked up sharply to meet Contract's gaze. "It's the truth," she insisted. "I didn't need a power, so I didn't pay a cost."

"Those two bouncers each weighed at least twice as much as you."

"It made them slow," Contract deadpanned.

Clockblocker couldn't tell if Contract was being deliberately calm to be infuriating, or if it honestly wasn't a big deal to her.

"You beat them? Unarmed?" he double checked, just to be sure.

Gallant walked up and spoke before she could answer. "They weren't unarmed." He waved handful of evidence bags which held four knives and a gun.

Contract rolled her eyes. She actually, legitimately, rolled her eyes. "They weren't expecting Hookwolf to jump the gun. I was. I broke druggie's ankle on my way past him, which made his knife pretty irrelevant. Tweedle Dee," she pointed to the enforcer who had been slumped against the wall, "had the gun, and he got it out of his holster, but he didn't get the chance to bring it up. He was so focused on it that I was able to slip his knife out of his belt and use the handle to strike a pressure point.

"Tweedle Dumb hesitated when he heard Druggie's ankle break. He hesitated again just after that, because I kept Tweedle Dee between us until he dropped. By then he had a knife out, so I kicked it out of his hand and then used the follow through to hit his knee. He tried to flip me, but I leveraged it to land behind him where I could apply a sleeper hold. Easy-peasy."

The PRT van pulled up before Clockblocker could follow up on that summary action report.

The next hour was hectic. They'd lucked out, and Hookwolf stayed contained until they could foam him, but then there was the paperwork and formalities that came with four arrests and a full contact fight. The Wards had miraculously made it out with nothing more than bruised knuckles, but it had been sheer luck.

It was good enough for Renick and Armsmaster, who switched from allowing the change in the Wards' schedules to encouraging it. But Clockblocker couldn't stop dwelling on how fortunate they had been. Hookwolf had chosen to go out without backup, or else his backup had decided not to show. Hookwolf had also made a single poor tactical lunge. If it wasn't for those two mistakes, someone could have been badly hurt. On the other hand, they had provoked a response from the Empire Eighty-Eight which was far more than the Wards normally managed, so in the end Clockblocker decided to count it as a win, spell check his report, and go find his fellow Wards.

Jason had made a good point about the value of casual time in building teamwork, and with Triumph and Aegis graduating they had a good excuse for a party. Hopefully, the rest of the Wards were willing to clear their schedules for a Friday evening.

Dennis was looking forward to celebrating.


	18. Masks

**Chapter Eighteen: Masks**

 **March 18, 2011**

After she submitted her report, Phoenix took a deep breath, and just sat in front of her laptop. Mentally, she counted off ten seconds. Just ten simple seconds when she didn't have to be a hero or a teenager; when she could just sit in silence and breathe evenly.

She enjoyed eight seconds of silence before a tap on the door pulled her back into being Contract. She opened her eyes slowly, stared at the blank computer desktop, then reached for her mask and walked over to the door. She exhaled, put on the soft leather, and prepared her smile; only when she was fully masked did she twist the handle.


	19. Meet the Press

**Chapter Nineteen: Meet the Press**

 **March 18, 2011**

It was just after 4:30 pm when Glenn knocked on Contract's door. Armsmaster had tried to cancel the interview when the Wards patrol encountered Hookwolf, but Contract had simply given a small smile and asked calmly if there was any damage or dirt on her costume that she needed to deal with before she got in front of the cameras. Armsmaster had tried to draw her aside, but she'd given him a look and quietly insisted that she would be fine, and then she had left to write her report.

Armsmaster asked Glenn to cancel the interview anyway. He said the pressure was just too much, but Glenn was concerned that if they postponed the interview it would only continue to weigh on Contract's mind.

Instead, Glenn had given her as much time to recover and prepare herself as they could afford, before he knocked on the door.

She opened it with a smile that was so brittle it almost broke his heart. She was wearing thin from the stress she was under, and Glenn was concerned that he'd made it worse by pushing her so hard that past Wednesday. "Can I have five minutes?" she asked casually.

"We need to get on the road."

Contract nodded easily, and shut the door behind her as she stepped into the main Wards' base. "Lead the way."

They walked to the garage in silence, but when they got to the car, she visibly hesitated. "I don't suppose there's any chance of you letting me drive?" She asked quietly.

"You have a license?" Glenn asked.

"Yes. Both as Elizabeth and in my previous life," she admitted. Glenn rolled the keys in his hands. It was against PRT policy for a masked hero to drive in case they were pulled over, but it was his private car and the drive was just a little over five miles.

"Be nice to her," he said as he tossed his keys. Contract snatched them out of the air, climbed eagerly into the driver's seat, and whipped her mask into her back pocket.

Contract pulled out smoothly, even more smoothly than he sometimes did, since he'd only had the stick shift for a year. Immediately, she started up conversation. Glenn made a mental note that putting Contract behind the wheel of a car did wonders for her stress levels. "So the reporters names are Julie McWilliams and Roberta Cassidy. Julie is the funny one and Roberta is the griller, right?"

"That's correct." A car whipped in front of them, but Contract slid smoothly into a lower gear and changed lanes without a single hesitation. If he hadn't seen the car nearly side-swipe them, he'd never have known anything had happened.

"Roberta is the blonde?"

"Yes. But she won't be out to get you." He reminded her. He'd specifically chosen Julie and Bobby for their straight forward reporting. The Wards had enjoyed great success with their morning talk show in the past, and he was looking forward to an easy interview.

"Thanks for setting this up." Contract said, flashing him a smile as she looked over the check his side-view mirror. "I know I haven't made your job easy."

"You haven't been too bad. Just so long as you're not going to spring a surprise name-change on me," Glenn joked. Contract gave him a glance that, just for a moment, made his stomach drop. "Contract?" He pressed.

She glanced at him again, then sighed as she changed lanes. "I thought about it. I wouldn't have surprised you with it, but I did give the name change serious consideration. In the end, I decided you were right. I don't want to give in to it."

"You scared me there for a minute."

"Sorry." She turned into the studio and slid seamlessly into the closest parking space. She didn't move to get out of the car immediately, instead just sitting with her hands on the wheel and her eyes closed.

"Fi?" Glenn asked, remembering to use her civilian name this time. "You okay?"

She opened her eyes, looked over, smiled, and very deliberately moved her hands off the wheel. "I will be." She released inhaled deeply. "Let's do this."

Without further hesitation, she swung her body up and out of the car in a single, smooth motion. By the time she was vertical, she had her mask back in place and she immediately strode purposefully toward the entrance. Glenn followed in her wake, watching the reactions of the people she passed in the lobby and the receptionists as she approached.

Contract was as good as the promise she had made him: when she was trying to be a hero, no one would mistake her for a civilian. People stepped out of her path before they had fully processed who she was, heads came up to follow her, and she never glanced to either side. Instead, she strode right past the reception counter and swept to the elevators. Glenn moved behind her as his own pace, and by the time he'd crossed the large, quiet lobby, the elevator was dinging.

They got in together, and Glenn pushed the button for the fifth floor. "How do you do it?" he asked, amazed at the change in demeanor.

"You wade through a couple of hell holes, and a building lobby isn't so scary. As long as you don't break rhythm, no one else will either."

"I meant, how do you contain all of that potential in a non-threatening shell?" Glenn had no doubt that it was the fading-in-the-background, quiet, cooperative face that was the mask. Confidence like Contract's couldn't be consistently faked.

"I was the youngest of five siblings. It was a long time before I was even close to being the tallest, fastest, or smartest. But I was always the quietest."

She gave him a conspiratorial wink, and he chuckled. It probably wasn't a completely true answer, but it was enough. She laughed with him, then the doors opened, and she stepped out and turned to the left seamlessly, though she had no way of knowing which direction the studio was in. She was correct however, so Glenn just followed her down the hall and into the recording studio.

Julie and Bobby were standing at a table set up with coffee and cookies, and Contract aimed for them as soon as she cleared the threshold, arriving several seconds before him. She extended a hand first to Bobby and then to Julie, greeting them each by name. When he reached them, he offered his own hellos.

"Cutting it a little close, Glenn," Bobby teased. "Your old wreck break down on you?"

Glenn chuckled, though he didn't find her funny. "No. Just a busy day."

"My fault really," Contract said as she reached across Julie to pick up a toothpick and stab a strawberry. "Hookwolf took a little longer to deal with than Clockblocker and I estimated. Glenn warned me about a patrol on the day of an important interview, and I really should have listened. He's the expert, right?" She grinned widely at Bobby, who was doing a poor job of hiding her surprise.

"Hookwolf?" Julie asked.

"Oh, don't worry, everyone's fine. It's just that booking a villain takes more paperwork than I realized. Hazards of being a new employee." She smiled innocently, as though she didn't understand the bomb she was dropping on the two reporters.

"You arrested Hookwolf?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Contract paused for just a moment, while her audience tried to reconcile her denial with what she had just said. "Clockblocker arrested Hookwolf. I arrested the three gang members he brought with him. Then we had to wait for the police to come and transfer custody of the non-parahumans to the appropriate officers and take Hookwolf back to be processed at the PRT base."

"The two of you took out four members of the Empire?"

"We couldn't have done it without the air support from Gallant. The three of us make a great mini-squad, if I do say so myself."

Before the women could dig for more details, one of the techs came over to usher them to the couch so they could start shooting. Contract gestured them to go first, popped the slice of strawberry into her mouth, and winked at Glenn. For his part, Glenn was impressed. She may not have wanted to do television interviews, but she didn't seem like she'd have any trouble with the reporters.

Bobby and Julie each took their traditional places on the left-most couch, and Contract sank gracefully onto the right-side couch, leaning back and putting on arm over the back of the low seat. While techs bustled around, checking lights and adjusting details, Julie leaned forward to talk to Contract.

"Have you ever been on camera before?"

"Nothing like this," Contract replied casually. Julie smiled warmly.

"Well, try to look at the camera whenever you remember to do so. You can look at us when we're speaking, but make sure you glance over to the front of the set several times a minute. You'll see Bobby and I do it too." Contract nodded to show she was following along as Julie continued. "This isn't live, so if something goes terribly wrong we can stop. But we want this to feel natural for you and for the audience. So don't over think it, and just relax."

"Thank you, Julie."

"We're ready, ladies," one tech said as the remaining ones moved behind the cameras. Glenn stole a seat near the center camera, closer to Contract than the reporters, where she would be able to glance to him for cues if she needed them. A tech clicked a movie slate, and the theme music played.

"Welcome back to B and J in the morning. Bobby and I are here with a very special guest today whom I'm sure you all recognize. Contract, would you like to introduce yourself?"

Contract turned toward the camera as it panned out to include her in the frame. "Hello everyone. I'm the teenager who erased Behemoth." She gave a smile that was almost shy.

Julie laughed a little while Contract smiled winningly, and Bobby spoke up. "I'm sure you've been asked this a lot, but how did you do it? The press release wasn't very descriptive."

Contract smiled widely, turning her head to Bobby for the slightest of moments. "It's hard to describe. Most powers change the way parahumans perceive the world to some extent or another. Mine are like being able to smell the color red and make it blue by feeling for taste of marble. It's an entirely separate sense that isn't easy to describe. I wish I could be more help, but I don't know how else to say it." She looked back to Bobby. "I converted Behemoth's mass into energy and used that energy to facelift New York City."

Contract shrugged casually, as she so frequently did after saying or doing the impossible. If Bobby hadn't already had her next question ready, it might have been enough to throw her off her game. Glenn could sympathize - it was unnerving to hear a 16 year old girl talk about that level of power.

"But you can't just convert any mass?"

"No. I've given this a lot of thought and exploration. Behemoth was dynokinetic in a very unique way. Given the destruction he wrecked in the past, I think it's possible that he was actually converting his own mass, just as I did. I'm pretty sure my power tapped into his. That's why I haven't repeated my trick twice over already."

Julie picked up the conversation next. "I think I speak for everyone when I say we are just grateful for what you've already done." Contract's smile grew into a genuine grin when she heard that. "If you don't mind me asking, how did you choose your name?"

"It's a funny story, really. It's actually a nick name that was given to me as a civilian. The person who gave it to me died in a car crash about the same time I got my powers, and I decided to dedicate my career as a hero to his memory. Before he died, he always said that a hero didn't have to be special, a hero was just anyone who decided to stand up and step out. I wanted that legacy to live."

"You've made several comments to that effect on Parahumans Online. It seems very important to you."

"I think our society is ready for a change. Criminal capes outnumber the good ones 5 to 1 globally, in the kindest estimate. In some of the worst areas, it's 33 to 1. If people wait for the heroes in capes to do all the heavy lifting, there's a long line of too many things to do. But if people help each other, then I believe there's no limit on what we can do."

"Not everyone can stop an Endbringer." Contract didn't flinch at Bobby's wording, even though it was the phrasing she had expressed such hatred for. Instead, she rolled with the punch.

"But anyone can stand up to a bully. Or a mugging. Or a kidnapping. Anyone can call child services. Anyone can be a designated driver."

"Indeed they can," Julie put in diplomatically. "Thank you for sharing with us. How are you settling in to Brockton Bay?"

Contract relaxed back into the couch, losing some of the intensity that Glenn hadn't even realized she'd picked up. She was good at this, naturally and easily playing to the audience. "It's not too bad. I've made some good friends on the Wards team, and Armsmaster is an awesome boss. School is going well, though obviously I can't tell you which campus I'm on." She smiled conspiratorially at the two hostesses, who smiled back.

"Even if you can't tell us where you take classes, can you tell us anything about the events at Winslow?" Bobby asked slyly.

Contract pretended to consider it, then leaned forward as though telling a secret, though her voice didn't drop in tone or volume. "Which events?"

"Any of them!" Julie encouraged.

Contract relaxed back into the couch again, and smirked. Something in that smirk set off a warning in Glenn's head, but there wasn't anything he could do. "Alright. Winslow. What can I say? The school is a disaster zone waiting to happen. Yesterday, a kid was trapped in a dumpster on school grounds for an hour and a half. The Empire didn't like his good grades. The day before that, two senior girls stole textbooks from a freshman, to try to pressure her into joining the Merchants.

"On the Tuesday before last, four girls were put in suspension after a sustained bullying campaign that went on for 18 months and left a student hospitalized. The day before, three more girls were arrested in connection with the same case. Two weeks ago today, I confiscated nine knives and a set of brass knuckles from a score of teenagers trying to kill each other." Bobby tried to open her mouth and zone in on the story lurking there, but Contract didn't pause even to take a breath.

"The staff is overworked, underpaid, and without the resources they need for protection, enforcement, and counselling. The dropout rate is 68%. In a good month, no one gets sent to the hospital.

"I was placed in proximity with Winslow because they needed me. It is a sad, sad commentary on a city when one of their public schools needs cape intervention. It is a sad, sad commentary on a city when everyone who can, gets out and goes to a school with a Faraday cage, while less than an hour away kids are fighting for their lives.

"That's the highlights of the recent events at Winslow." There was a moment of stunned silence, then Contract continued in the same steady, level, forced-casual tone. "Was there any of that specifically that you were looking to discuss?"

Julie got her feet back first. "What are you going to do to change it?"

"I'm going to keep talking about it. I'm going to go on the air and call the city out on the fact that it is dumping kids into a black hole and walking away. I'm going to point out that the ferry hasn't run in 15 years, and until it does, more than 40% of the city's real estate is serving as a breeding ground for criminals and gangs, while the good people who live in these neighborhoods are being left to the wolves, like sacrificial sheep. I'm going to keep showing up on Winslow campus. And as of today, the Wards are adopting a new patrol pattern that will take us into the areas where we are needed."

Contract held a hand up towards the camera, and smiled apologetically directly into the lens. "I know, I wasn't supposed to announce that today," her hand dropped and her face turned a little sheepish, as she looked straight at an audience that didn't exist yet, and kept talking as though she was addressing him alone. "I guess I got carried away. I just want to make a difference."

Bobby laughed a little nervously. "Some would say that erasing Behemoth made a difference."

Contract broke eye contact with the camera to turn back to her, shifting tone to match Bobby's casualness. "But what is the point of being an S-class cape if you don't keep doing good in the world?"

Bobby and Julie glanced at each other, and Glenn's heart sank again. They were going to ask one of the forbidden questions, and he had no idea how Contract would react. She'd done well so far, all things considered. He hadn't expected a passionate appeal to town politics, but nothing she had said was too horrible. Again, he was helpless to do anything but wait.

It was Julie who spoke up. "Are you still an S-class cape, if you can't, as you said, repeat the trick twice over?"

Contract breathed in deeply. It wasn't even enough to be called a hesitation, but Glenn got the sense that she was restraining herself. "I guess that's a question for my bosses." She shrugged, but the casualness was more forced now.

Bobby followed up immediately. "What do your parents think about your new status?"

"My parents are dead," Contract answered easily. "Only the living got healed in New York. Those that Behemoth had already killed, stayed dead." Both hostesses leaned back involuntarily. Contract didn't lean forward, but her tone became intense. "I do still have living family, but I haven't seen them since before- well, before. When I woke up after I destroyed Behemoth, my first instinct was to go home. Alexandria reminded me of what I had just done, and the target that it put on my back. And I knew, in that moment, that I had already said goodbye to my family. I can never go back to them."

Neither hostess responded. They probably hadn't expected a response, and they didn't know what to do with the answer they received. Surprisingly, it was Contract who let them off the hook. "It's okay. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said all that. I'm still coming to peace with it. I'm okay, really. Sorry I flipped on you guys." She scoffed at herself, inviting a touch of self-mockery.

Julie reached out across the couches and grabbed Contract's hand. "Thank you for sharing." Contract did a good imitation of laughing like she was trying not to cry, and Julie glanced at Bobby significantly, passing some silent message to her partner.

Bobby picked up her cue, and asked, "So, what's with the new mask?"

Contract gave another wet little laugh, then extracted her hand from Julie and turned to split her attention between Bobby and the camera. "Well, I wanted something a little bit older and bolder. And, to be honest, the white one was a couple years old and it smelled like it. Leather can hold a lot of sweat-smell if you're not careful, and I wasn't." She put on a forced smile. "Plus, get a load of these boots."

* * *

Glenn reviewed the edited clip the minute it hit his inbox, but he needn't have worried. The first half of the interview was uncut-the only editing the studio had done was to switch between camera angles where appropriate. The second half, discussing costumes, favorite songs, and hot actors had been clipped to about two thirds of the original length, but nothing was misrepresented.

After he'd watched it twice and was certain he was happy with it, he packed up his laptop and took the elevator to Armsmaster's lab. Contract and Legend were both there when he arrived, despite the late hour.

Glenn could tell from the tension that he had interrupted something, but he decided it wasn't his business. "I think you're going to be pleased." He opened the laptop lid and all four of them watched the interview together. Afterwards, Contract radiated smugness. Neither of her superiors were as happy.

"A little heavy-handed, don't you think?" Armsmaster challenged her immediately. Contract shrugged, but met his gaze seriously.

"If Brockton Bay continues in its current path, there is a good chance that we will see an Endbringer within the next two and half years. We are on the top ten list of America's worst cities in terms of illiteracy, villainy, crime, gang membership, income disparity, teen pregnancy, and kidnappings. That has to change."

"That's not really your place," he pushed back, but with less force than before. It was clear that he disagreed with the delivery much more than the message.

Glenn jumped in to give his opinion. "Perhaps not. But I think there is an opportunity here." And it wouldn't do to let that opportunity be wasted because a teenager had failed to get the proper clearance. "Contract should have cleared this with all of us before the interview, but let's not throw the baby out with the bathwater."

He could see that he had Armsmaster's attention from his posture, but Legend was more difficult to read. Regardless, Glenn continued. "The interview itself is prime material: Contract is very earnest, open, and the comments flow naturally as part of the dialog. The key is in the message itself. Contract isn't an S-class cape that will magically change Brockton Bay. Instead, our message is that she provides a unique, outside perspective that is giving us a fresh chance to address existing problems. It's a reinforcement of the efforts in Brockton Bay, not an undermining of it."

"You think you can control this?" Legend asked mildly.

Glenn nodded. "Over the next couple days, we will have statements from various heroes across all available media subtly reinforcing the party line. Then a joint interview with the new Wards and Armsmaster himself." He turned toward the local leader. "You'll do most of the talking, to reinforce that this is not about Contract."

The Ward in question rolled her eyes but didn't speak up.

"You believe this is for the best?" Armsmaster asked, and Glenn smiled.

"I do indeed."

The two heroes nodded, then Legend spoke for them both. "Run it." He turned to Contract. "This doesn't excuse your attempt to dictate terms to the Protectorate."

Contract scoffed and straightened up from where she'd been leaning against the side of a table. "I wasn't attempting to dictate terms. I saw an opportunity to make a statement and I took it. It was a no-cost risk. If you wanted to cut the material, you could have. The misdirection with my family was juicy enough to satisfy the news cast. If you liked the statement, as it turns out you do, then you leave it in. No risk, moderate reward."

The defense was the same one Contract had used on the drive back, but she delivered it far more belligerently now. The logic satisfied Glenn. The tone was sure to irk both heroes.

"You should have discussed this with us before you went in front of a camera."

"Because you've been so understanding!" she shot back scathingly.

Armsmaster stepped in. "Did you honestly think we wouldn't support a simple awareness campaign? You do realize we've been heroes just a little longer than you have."

"I figured you might. You see the cancer that is infested itself into the Bay. You're out there fighting it day in and day out. Your superiors?" She shot Legend a dirty look. "Not so much."

"We have bent over backwards for you," Legend protested, but Contract took a step forward and spoke over the rest of his statement.

"I'd hate to see what you'd look like obstructing me. You forced me into joining this little fanclub. You refused to station me in Texas and insisted that I draw a random city. You licensed my image without asking or even notifying me of the fact. You refused to transfer me to an international team. You failed to tell me that the bounties on my head now top two million dollars, cumulative."

Glenn guessed that the last statement surprised Legend, but it didn't throw him off. "We are professionals who have been in the business much longer than you. This is not a fanclub. It is not a joke. And whether you believe it or not, we are not out to get you. Every decision we have made has been in accordance with protocols that are designed to save lives." Legend's voice wasn't completely calm, but it was steadier than Contract's.

She met his gaze with a harsh glare, but didn't immediately reply. Legend didn't wait for her to speak. "Did you or did you not go into that interview without discussing your full agenda with Glenn beforehand?"

Contract's jaw tipped up. "I did not." Legend arched his eyebrows and Contract swallowed heavily before continuing. If Glenn had to speculate, she was swallowing her pride and anger. "Glenn and I agreed that I would be open, friendly, and as honest as was reasonable. They asked me about my name, and I told them an honest answer. They asked a follow up question about my beliefs. I answered it. I didn't attempt to engineer the statement. It was a spur of the moment decision."

Legend glanced at Glenn had he nodded. That had been his read on the situation at the time, and he believed Contract now. Legend glanced at Armsmaster next, and he nodded as well, though the bottom half of his facial expression didn't look happy.

Contract read that unhappiness as well, and huffed. "Look, Glenn talked to me about being invested in my future as a hero. And as far as I can tell, that's what you all want from me too. So I'll be straight with you: this is what it looks like when I decide to be a hero. I care about Winslow and the Docks and the people in this city, and I can't stand by and watch them rot. I don't know what the solution is, but if you want someone to bare silent witness you came to the wrong doorstep."

Legend pursed his lips, but changed topics. "It seems we'll have to talk about this more later. Right now, let's talk about the misinformation you released about your family."

"The more incorrect information I release about my past, the better protected my family is."

"Lying to the media is dangerous," Glenn put in mildly, before Contract could work herself up to another full head of steam.

"Perhaps," she conceded. She took a breath to keep going, but Glenn jumped in first.

"No perhaps about it. Being caught in a lie can be disastrous. You made it sound like Behemoth killed your parents. If this is untrue and it comes out, your reputation will take a direct hit. You'll be seen as insensitive, untrustworthy, and dishonorable."

Contract jerked her head up and down once in response. It was obvious that her pride would not allow her to admit anything further. Glenn was disappointed. Despite the acumen and maturity she'd showed on Wednesday and in the interview, she'd been extremely antagonistic tonight.

He glanced at Armsmaster, but all three of them knew that the conversation wasn't over. Fortunately, Legend stepped forward to ask the question that had to be asked. Contract was already upset with him.

"You need to tell us the truth about your parents."

Contract stared at him, and Glenn felt certain she paused mostly to swallowed all the crude answers she couldn't say to the head of the Protectorate. "That's none of your business."

"It _was_ none of our business," Legend corrected her. "You made it our business when you chose to discuss the matter on national television."

Contract glared for another moment, but she seemed to understand that they wouldn't back down on this. "I never knew my parents."

Legend's eyebrows descended, which was enough for Glenn to read that he was dismayed with her answer. "The people who raised you then."

Contract sneered, leaning back and crossing her arms in front of her. Even with part of her face covered, Glenn sensed that they had pushed her over a line and wouldn't like what she had to say next. "I was found on the side of a highway. I was passed from house to house and adult to adult. I raised _myself_."

There was too much suppressed anger in her words to believe she was making it up, but it contradicted her concern for her "family."

"They hardly seem worth protecting," Armsmaster said mildly, voicing Glenn's own thoughts. Contract shrugged, but it was obvious that she was still tense and the motion was forced.

"None of them ever claimed to be my parents, and I never asked them to be. They helped me when they could. Just because they didn't raise me doesn't mean they're not damned good people. They may not be parents, but they're family. Aunts, grandfathers," her voice choked for as she tacked on, "siblings," trying and failing to make that word as casual as the others.

So Contract had had peers, but not parents. It was these siblings, and possibly their families, she sought to protect.

"You never found out how or why you were abandoned?" Armsmaster gently probed. Glenn made a mental note that Armsmaster had learned subtly at some point when he wasn't looking. It would make his next TV interview much easier.

Contract gave another shrug while her posture remained taunt as a piano wire. "I never cared. Never looked." The first was obviously a lie, but Glenn suspected the second was true.

There was no good explanation that ended with a child abandoned by the roadside, and Contract probably understand that well enough to know she didn't need the details.

Legend glanced at both Glenn and Armsmaster, checking that they didn't have anything to say. Then he spoke. "We will obviously need to have several more discussions about your PR footprint and Protectorate policies." If possible, Contract leaned back a little more. "But as I understand it, your teammates are currently waiting on you. You're dismissed."

Contract nodded once, sharply, before she turned and fled. Glenn sighed, suspecting that the good report he'd built with Fi had just vanished.

"Indeed," Legend responded to his heavy sigh. "What a mess."

"The interview wasn't bad," Glenn pointed out.

"But it could have been," Legend responded. "She has no respect for the Protectorate. We're lucky that her personal opinions are manageable."

Armsmaster replied before Glenn had decided what he wanted to say. "Are there really bounties on her?"

"Yes," Legend admitted. "2.3 million dollars confirmed, and another 6 to 8 rumored. Some for her kidnapping, some just for her death."

"You should have told me."

"Would you have told her?" Legend sounded curious, not accusing, which was good. Armsmaster had been improving his relationship with Contract, but at the cost of occasional tensions with the leadership.

Armsmaster shook his head solemnly. "No teenager should have to bear that burden."

"She's probably more upset about the omission," Glenn put in his opinion mildly. "At least, right now. She didn't seem at all shook up when she rattled it off. Any idea how she might have found out?" Glenn had heard about it through the office gossip, but since no one in Brockton Bay seemed to have known, he doubted Contract had found out the same way.

"No idea," Armsmaster admitted.

Legend sighed. "It doesn't really matter. The bottom line is that we're facing yet another uphill battle to reach her." He massaged his temples.

"Speaking of which, about Clockblocker…"

Legend waved his hand dismissively. "Yes, of course. Technically, it is your jurisdiction to promote whomever you choose to lead your Wards team."

After a moment of awkward silence, he elaborated. "And on the whole, you seem to be doing a better job of reaching Contract than any other adult has managed expect perhaps Dragon. We'll have to trust your judgment." He hesitated, then continued, "But you should know that Company initially identified him as being hostile toward Contract. He was nearly moved off the team entirely."

"Contract doesn't think much of Company," Glenn volunteered. "In fact, I'd avoid mentioning him to her if at all possible."

Legend grimaced and Glenn guessed that he was torn. On one hand, allowing a teenager to dictate any piece of Protectorate policy had to rankle. On the other, the teenager in question was a walking nuke.

Armsmaster nodded to show he'd heard, but addressed Legend's concern instead. "Contract alerted me to the tension a week ago. Since then, she has also assured me that they are now working together flawlessly. She claims that she understands the reasons for his previous hostility and respects his leadership in a professional capacity. She also believes that their working dynamic will continue to improve. She said that previously existing barriers have been removed to the satisfaction of them both."

"We have nothing but her word?"

"Clockblocker corroborated her statement, although neither offered specifics."

"I hope you know what you're doing," Legend said, but he sounded tired, not doubtful, and Armsmaster didn't take offense. Legend turned to Glenn. "Always a pleasure. I appreciate your insight tonight."

"Of course. Anything to help," Glenn said smiling as he shook Legend's hand. The two heroes shook hands too, then Legend headed for the door.

Armsmaster waited until he was gone, then turned to Glenn. "I need help to draft a press release."

"Of course." Glenn had already resigned himself to not getting any sleep that night. Clockblocker as the leader of the Wards; the heroes of Brockton Bay calling on the people to step up; helping Contract play a part in a potential social revolution without letting it be succumbed by her image…

Armsmaster removed his helmet to make himself more comfortable. "Legend wasn't just here to deal with Contract. We were also finalizing a change in the local Protectorate. Miss Militia is going to step up and co-lead the ENE team with me."

That caught Glenn flatfooted. "What?"

"I am putting significant time into mentoring Contract and running interference between her and the rest of the PRT and Protectorate, Company in particular, as you noted. And I've never been good at the political side of things. Miss Militia has been helping fill in the gaps, and we talked about the possibly paths forward over the course of the last week.

"Legend's concerned about moving too fast, but Miss Militia and I want to get in front of any potential problems. I need to be able to devote enough time to tinkering and Contract, and we can't afford to make even the slightest error. So she is going to become my co-leader."

Glenn forced his mouth to not hang open in shock. Even a month ago, Armsmaster would have fought tooth and nail against any threat to his authority, real or perceived. Glenn had actually been a bit concerned about what lengths Armsmaster might go to in order to prove himself. It seemed that being given a worthwhile cause and capable ally had done him a world of good.

Glenn wondered if this maturity had always been hiding in Armsmaster, waiting for an excuse to emerge, or if it had been due to Contract specifically. He suspected the former. Armsmaster wouldn't have been appointed a Protectorate team leader if he wasn't suited for the job on some level.

He shook off the rumination and mentally rolled up his sleeves. Tonight would be challenging, but worthwhile - the best kind of long night possible.


	20. Pass the Popcorn

**Author's Note** : This chapter is the first of five or six that all happen simultaneously. So if there are details that don't make sense yet, trust that they will soon. Thanks for sticking with me!

 **Chapter Twenty: Pass the Popcorn**

 **March 18, 2011**

Dean looked up as a new emotional aura pinged on his radar. "Heads up. Fi's here."

Dennis stopped talking immediately and the elevator door opened at the same time. Fi took in the room at a glance, then moved to join the group. She had already shed her mask, and she walked with casual, rolling grace rather than her intimidating strut. Her casual manner didn't change her emotions, which were as tumultuous as ever. At the moment, weariness and sorrow appeared to be winning.

"What's up?" Fi asked as she leaned on the back of Missy's chair. Taylor turned and smiled at the two of them.

"We're celebrating!" Her emotional health had improved in leaps and bounds, even in the few days he had known her, especially when she was with the other Wards.

"Is that so?" Fi glanced around the table, her eyes lingering on Jason for a moment, while gratitude surged in her aura. She always seemed a little more stable when Jason was in the room, but the sharp edges of her emotions attracted Dean's attention regardless. "Isn't it rude to celebrate your leaders' departures before they're actually gone?"

Carlos took the teasing in the manner intended, but Rory stifled an increased wave of guilt and self-doubt, even as he answered, "And make us miss the party?" The group chuckled. "We figured that we never really got to welcome you and Jason last month, and now Taylor has joined too. Plus arresting Hookwolf is no small potatoes. And Dennis said he wanted to see Carlos and I off in style."

"Or I just wanted an excuse to order extra pizza." Dennis pointed out in honest humor. Ever since Fi had healed his father, Dennis had been inordinately happy, and his humor lacked the cynical edge it usually held.

"We were just debating which movie to watch!" Jason told her, at ease as he so often wasn't around her. The responsibility of being the person she was closest to was one that the younger teen took very seriously, just as Dean knew it was his responsibility to watch for hidden stresses. Perhaps Jason didn't feel the need to be as careful, tonight.

Fi smiled at him, but her heart wasn't in it. "So what's our options?" Fi glanced at Missy, who naturally answered her. Jason's happiness increased a touch. He was probably pleased to see Fi integrate herself more.

He'd talked to Jason over a week ago, after seeing increasing frustration in his day-to-day interactions with the other Wards. His teammate had admitted that he didn't feel like he fit in the team. Seeing Fi start to make inroads had been a double edged sword for him. On one hand, he wanted to see the team dynamic improve and he knew that Fi needed a support system.

But on the other hand, he and Fi had been isolated together because of her campaign against Sophia and he felt like Fi was leaving him behind as she integrated herself into the team. Further, he didn't think the rest of the team took the same care to accommodate her stress as he did, and he was bitter that he was putting in so much more work. That he could watch Fi and Missy without jealousy was a positive sign.

The movie debate went around and around for another ten minutes, before Fi sensibly pointed out that the Wards would have plenty more opportunities to hang out together, so they should allow Carlos and Rory to decide. Conveniently, they favored the old horror movie that Fi herself had shown interest in.

The call came from reception that their pizza had arrived, so Fi put on her mask, and grabbed Dennis, who was still in costume, and went to go retrieve it from the lobby.

Once they returned, the Wards moved to one of the many lounges in the PRT base, where they sprawled out on couches and armchairs around one of the massive flat-screens normally used for presentations and briefings. They cued the movie up and settled in to watch.

Less than ten minutes in, Dean noticed that Fi's aura had gone nearly pure honey, with hints of a bubble-gum pink. Nostalgia, and innocent amusement. It was the calmest, most unified her aura had ever been. It was normal for an aura to have three or four colors at a time - people were complicated and what they felt was complicated - but watching Fi was often like watching a kaleidoscope of eight or nine competing emotions; she not only had more simultaneous feelings, but her feelings also shifted constantly, at a moment's notice, without any discernable pattern or stimuli.

Dean settled in to enjoy the movie, pleased that he could enjoy a night off with his teammates without the headache of Fi's sharp edges drawing his constant notice.

When the movie was over, the Wards all failed to get up. By mutual laziness, they sat on the couch and argued over the plausibility of the action sequences. The conversation slowly morphed, as they started retelling old stories, reliving previous victories.

"Reminds me of when we tried to take on Stormtiger and Cricket," Dennis said, and his aura took on the deep blue tinge of regret. "Man, did we bite off more than we could chew."

Missy threw a pizza crust at his head, acting defensive while she felt smug. After Rory and Dennis had gone down, Missy had stepped up to salvage a bad situation. "That was Velocity's call, not ours. Still, we did okay."

"Because we had help," Dennis reminded her. Dean shot his friend a sympathetic smile. If Shadow Stalker hadn't shown up when she did, Dennis might well be dead. It was a hell of an impression to make during her first encounter as a Ward, and Dean knew that Dennis had let it color his general impression of Sophia.

"What happened?" Jason asked, oblivious to the undercurrents.

Missy's aura flushed with orange, and she awkwardly glanced at Taylor, probably just realizing how difficult this might be for her to hear. Dennis stepped up casually to defuse the situation. "Shadow Stalker was out on an independent patrol and got the call from the console. We were able to get away without serious injury."

Taylor looked down, feeling just as uncomfortable, her aura the same orange, with a hint of anger in the heart of it leaking red. Jason went pale, glanced at her, and mumbled an apology.

Fi shrugged, staring into space, and spoke up. "Bad people do good things. Sometimes, bad people even save lives." No one replied. "Of course, that assumes that you can boil people down to labels as simple as _bad_ or _good_."

She looked back at the group, at Rory specifically, and spoke directly to him. "That's why I don't like labels. Good, bad, hero, villain… doesn't matter. What matters is what a person _has_ done, and what they will do."

Dean was surprised to see Rory's guilt fade away. Taylor looked up too, and the red anger had leaked out so that she was left with just a pale, awkward orange. Jason tried to meet Fi's eyes, but she was looking steadily at Rory.

Missy unintentionally broke off the silent communication as she changed the subject. "It's going to be so weird to not have you guys around."

Carlos, sitting next to her, put an arm around her shoulder. "We'll keep in touch."

"You're moving to California," she reminded him.

"It's not like it's another country," Fi put in, her aura drifting back to nostalgic. "It's two days' drive, no biggie."

"It's 3,000 miles." Carlos corrected. "Forty-four hours of driving without traffic. That's like four days of driving."

Fi shrugged. "Depends on how many speed limits you obey. And how many drivers you have to switch between. Besides, I'm defending you. You're not helping your case."

Carlos flushed as he remembered that he was supposed to be reassuring Missy. Fortunately for him, Fi's humor had done the trick. Missy's aura was a soft pink of amused, and the yellow-green of fondness. "I think I'll take the extra two days for safety's sake," Missy said as she squeezed Carlos' ribs.

"Can I ask something?" Taylor ventured as the topic died down, her aura the orange-pink of embarrassment. She summoned up orange-purple, forced bravery, and stifled brown-green fear of rejection.

"We're your team," Fi replied, more casually than she actually felt. Dennis and Missy picked up on Taylor's tenseness too, and both flushed identical shades of protective blue.

"I know trigger events aren't really talked about… but… well, I'm curious. The parahumans lecture didn't give any detailed examples. I know mine was…horrible… and I don't mean to pry, but…"

"Human curiosity is natural, even when it's morbid," Missy reassured her. "I got separated from my family when we were camping. I was lost for just over five days with no food, and no shelter. I woke up during the third night. I thought I heard something, but I couldn't see anything. I was hungry, I missed my parents, and I had this moment of clarity when I was certain I was going to get eaten.

"Something moved, I didn't see what, and I took a step back. Then I turned and ran until I collapsed. I must have triggered sometime during that run, but I don't remember exactly. I didn't even realize I was using my power at first, or what I was doing. Coving that much ground made it even harder for them to find me. My parents and I had never been much for the outdoors before that but after… we've never been back." Missy shrugged, not showing the pain and fear that still echoed in her even years later as she remembered the events.

Dean glanced at Rory, guessing that he would answer next, but he was just looking at his hands. Rory had always been very well adjusted to his trauma, able to talk about it calmly and use it to encourage younger capes. Maybe because he was older, when it happened, or because it was more mental than physical, Rory had never been affected in the same way. As a freshly triggered cape himself, hearing Rory talk about the worst day of his life and seeing how well adjusted he was had been a huge encouragement for Dean - a guarantee that things would get better. But now, though he'd never been shy about his trigger event before, he was flooded with shame.

Chris spoke instead, breaking Dean out of his thoughts. He'd talk to Rory later. "Mine was my dyscalculia, sort of. My older brother is really good at all sorts of science stuff, and we were working on trying to build a better rail gun. We'd spent just over a year on it, each trying to improve different pieces of the problem, but then he went to high school and we started drifting apart. The project was the only thing holding us together, for close to a year it was literally the only thing we could talk about any more.

"One day, I made a mistake in the calculations and when we tried to fire the gun it tore itself up. Ripped off the base and twisted in on itself. He stormed off and I sat there in the middle of the wreckage, and I had the sense that it was over. My last tie to my brother and I'd ruined it. I started picking up the pieces, but instead of putting them away, I put them together one last time. I forced everything to straighten out and I wired everything together. And then I fired it, and it accidentally blew a hole through my bedroom wall into his." Chris tried to grin, to shrug off his trauma like Missy had, but it was obviously brittle.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked." Taylor was blushing with embarrassment, and her aura showed regret too.

"Why did you?" Fi gently probed.

"I wondered if there was a correlation between the trigger and the powers. Because, well, my power didn't really help me. It sort of seems… pointless. We have a horrible experience, and undergo an enormous change… but it doesn't solve anything. I mean, stretching space actually hurt Missy and I thought I'd gone crazy at first. The powers don't solve the problem."

"What did happen?" Dean asked, softly. There had been hints, of course. They knew Taylor was bullied badly enough to need the hospital, and that she'd been put there by Shadow Stalker, but they hadn't gotten any details. Everyone seemed to hold their breath while they waited for an answer.

"They filled my locker with trash. Emma, and Madison… and Sophia." Taylor glanced at Fi and Jason, then looked down at her hands. "Emma was my best friend, once. A long time ago. They'd been attacking me since the start of high school, and it had only gotten worse when we came back from summer vacation, but before Christmas they sort of backed off.

"I could smell that something was wrong when I turned the corner. There were a lot of people around, curious, but not a crowd exactly. I opened my locker, and rotting trash just spilled everywhere. There was food, and paper… and biological waste. That's what the police called it. Tampons and pads. It was putrefied from being left there for three weeks.

"I threw up, and as I was retching Sophia shoved me into the locker. They left me there for hours. Not just Emma and her friends, but everyone else who had seen it too. And when my power kicked on, it made everything worse. Tons of new information, completely foreign, with no frame of reference… I didn't start to make sense of it until I was in the hospital. I thought I'd gone mad."

Dean saw Rory and Carlos exchange a heavy look, their auras tinged with worry, and he knew they were thinking what he himself was: could they have stopped it? If Sophia had been sentenced to juvie, instead of paroled to the Wards, could they have spared Taylor's pain?

Missy reached out and put a hand on Taylor's knee, offering comfort. Taylor smiled at her, then glanced around the circle. When she saw that no one was laughing, or trying to defend Sophia, her fear drained away and was replaced with gratitude and comfort. It was hard to realize how badly she had been broken, when her emotions around her teammates were usually so positive. But the way she had braced for rejection made it clear that the Wards had a lot of ground to cover to heal Taylor completely. She was strong, she'd had to be in order to survive, but she didn't quite believe that she wasn't alone anymore.

"Thank you for telling us," Jason said softly. "I know it's never easy to share." Taylor shrugged, a little embarrassed at being the focus of everyone's solemn attention, and Rory spared her from answering.

"He's right. You were brave to talk about it." He shifted awkwardly, and checked his watch, almost nervously. "I don't mean to rush off, but Carlos and I have to patrol with the Protectorate tomorrow morning. So, we'll see you around?" Carlos didn't look surprised at Rory's suggestion and abrupt departure, which was odd. Their whole reaction was odd. There was something he'd missed, but as he watched Rory and Carlos murmur goodbyes he didn't see anything that let him figure it out.

Once they were gone, the remaining Wards enjoyed a few moments of silence, and Dean realized that this was the new team.

They'd lost Shadow Stalker, and were about to lose Triumph and Aegis. But they'd gained Intrepid, Contract, and Beetle. It was back to being the seven of them again, but a very different seven. They had less experience, with both Beetle and Contract basically green capes, and Intrepid's previous assignment had been laid back compared to Brockton Bay. They had known each other for barely been a week, and yet the silence as they sat together wasn't oppressive as it might have been with the old group.

"I lost faith in humanity," Fi suddenly stated, breaking the silence. Everyone's head snapped up to stare at her in near-unison. Her aura was surprisingly calm, sort of resigned and sorrowful, with a hint of shame. She stared off to one side, not looking at anyone, as she continued. Anticipation crept into their auras as they realized what Fi was about to discuss.

"My family and I were travelling through Chicago, staying with a friend, when his six year old daughter disappeared. My family isn't powered, but there's no way any of us would stand by and let anything happen to one of our own. So we went out searching.

"I found the girl first, but before I could call it in, I got ambushed. I was dragged into the house, dazed as hell from the blow to my head, and put in cellar with six other girls, including Clarissa. A couple hours later, one of the Nazi bastards comes downstairs and hauls me up to a bedroom. When he was finished, he took me back, and his friend came down with us. As he was chaining me up, his buddy unlocked Clarissa. I knew what was going to happen to her.

"For about half a heartbeat, I was in denial. I couldn't believe that anyone could be that depraved. My mind just refused to accept the possibility. I couldn't understand that level of evil, couldn't accept it coming from another human being. And then she whimpered, and I swore to myself and God and anyone else who was listening, that I would do whatever it took to protect her. I'd even kill, if necessary."

Fi looked over then, spearing Jason with her gaze. Her resigned calm shifted towards fear of rejection. "You have to understand, I'd never killed a human before. Not when I was escaping my torturers. Not when my family was threatened. Not when my own life was on the line. I considered human life to be sacred. Invaluable." From where Dean as sitting, it didn't look like Jason was breathing. He wasn't judging her. If anything, he was grieving, already understanding where this story was going.

Fi flicked her eyes over to Taylor, and Dean was glad that she wasn't looking at him. Her aura was chaotic: sorrowful, regretful, afraid, with anger buried deep in the core. As she focused on Taylor, shame surged up. "You can get out of handcuffs with you're willing to break your own thumb. I did. Then I killed the man who had raped me, and I killed the man standing over Clarissa."

Taylor didn't recoil in horror as Dean had half expected. She was just furious and sympathetic. A girl who had refused to give her tormentors head lice, didn't reject Fi for admitting to murder. Surprisingly, none of the Wards did. Missy was stricken, and had been since she realized exactly what had happened to Fi. Dennis was furious and protective and feeling frustrated that there was nothing he could do. Chris was devastated, and Dean remembered that he'd had a cousin who went missing a year and half ago and was never found. For himself, Dean wasn't sure what he felt. Numb, mostly, and a little satisfied that the Nazi bastards had got what was coming to them. Fi was still talking in the same forced-steady voice.

"Then I went upstairs and killed the three creeps who were just starting to reach for their guns." She took a deep breath, and looked down as she admitted, "My family came in the door as I finished off the last one. If I had waited another sixty seconds, it would have been over anyway."

When she finished speaking, no one answered her. No one seemed to know what to do with that sort of confession. Their emotions were a jumble of horror and sympathy and protective fury, but no one knew what to say. Jason, shockingly, was puzzled, the confusion slowly overcoming the grief and compassion. He had heard something in Fi's story that the rest of them had missed, some detail that sparked his curiosity, and he was using it to distance himself from the horror. After a moment, Taylor got up from where she was sitting next to Missy and crossed over to sit next to Fi instead, grabbing her in a strong hug.

She was determined, angry, but mostly protective. Fi's first reaction to the hug was confusion and awkwardness, but eventually, when Taylor didn't let go, Fi hugged her back and gratitude overcame the confusion. Gratitude, and relief.

Finally, Fi broke the silence, pulling back from Taylor slightly, but not so far that the taller girl couldn't keep an arm around her. "My brother used to say that people are just crazy. You can understand any other evil, but human evil… we're the only species that kills for sport. Just crazy." She glanced down at her hands.

"You don't talk about your family much," Taylor observed gently. Her own aura now had grief mixed into it.

"What is there to say? They're dead to me, but I love them. They're gone, but they're still alive. They're out there living, and I'm here, living, and we'll probably never see each other again."

Missy, who seemed to become determined and protective as the shock wore off, asked the one question that had been burning Dean's own curiosity for weeks. "I get why you can't go to your family, but why haven't they come to you?"

Fi considered her for a while, then glanced at the rest of the team. "It's difficult to explain. I can try, but… well, let me start with my trigger event. I didn't know it at the time, but I'd made my first contract. Clarissa's freedom, in exchange for the deaths of our tormentors. Understand, I didn't want to kill those men. I didn't fly into a rage and decide their lives were worthless. I preferred that they live, rather than die. The cost of the contract was that I give up their lives, that I give up my refusal to kill, that I betray my own values, in order to save Clarissa.

"When my family found me…" she sighed. "It's hard to explain, when you've never met them. If I tell you that they were disappointed in me for killing those men, you will think that they're horrible people, but they're not. They were disappointed because they knew that I was capable of non-lethal measures, and chose lethal solutions instead. I betrayed myself and them with what I did.

"But even so, they supported me. They helped me overcome my guilt and understand what had happened, both in terms of the rape and in terms of my new powers. Even when I betrayed my own values and theirs, they forgave me long before I forgave myself."

Guilt broke into her aura, and she looked up at the team, at Dennis specifically. "Saying that I traded my family for Behemoth is… well it's not untrue but it is a simplification." This caught the team off-guard, and Dean could see confusion and frustration start to creep in. It faded almost immediately, and Fi outlined the truth in broad, terrible, strokes.

"What I traded for Behemoth is… infinitely worse than just the death of five truly despicable men. They forgave me for those five murders. But what I paid to destroy Behemoth… it would be like a Catholic willingly selling their soul to hell. If I see my family, there is chance that they will decide I am better off dead than alive, for my own sake. Some of them would almost certainly try to convince me to change my mind. If they succeeded, Behemoth would be re-created.

"Some of them would support me, I'm sure. My siblings especially. And Ash has been helping me as much as he can. He's getting messages to me through PHO letting me know my family is alive. But if there is even the slightest chance that one of them would try to kill me, I can't risk it. The reason the sacrifice was so powerful was because of all it entailed. Betrayal of myself, of my family, loss of my family, my culture, my identity - there's no good way to explain it. I didn't know what to say, except to try to sum it up. Saying I traded my family was as close as I could bring myself to admitting the truth."

Dennis's aura had faded from frustration back into sympathy and protection. He gave Fi a tight smile, her guilt shattered into grief.

"That doesn't explain why they haven't come to you, especially the ones who do forgive you," Chris pointed out. Fi nodded and elaborated.

"The other thing to consider is that my family has enemies. It's almost certain that there are people out there watching Brockton Bay, waiting for one of them to show up and visit me. I am a visible target, and the best way for me to protect them and vice versa is for us to cut ties so that their enemies don't know where to find them and my enemies don't know where to find my weak points."

"That seems very clinical," Dean observed, shocked to see satisfaction tempering her pain. She truly believed that the separation was for the best.

"I didn't have a normal childhood."

Taylor scoffed in reply, trying to inject humor into the conversation. "Obviously. Every time I learn more about you, the more I realize that you must have had a truly unique experience."

"I wouldn't trade it for all the diamonds in Africa," Fi admitted wryly.

"Not that you're a diamond fan anyway," Jason said. "I've been meaning to ask, what's with the costume jewelry?"

Fi looked surprised for a bit, then glanced down at her own hands where she was wearing a cheap watch, four or five hand-made bracelets, and two plastic rings. "They're costs," she said, shrugging.

"I spent money on them, much more than you'd guess by looking at them, and I store energy in them when I'm not using it for anything else. I've got a much higher metabolism rate than standard humans, but if I don't constantly use energy it just gets burned off and goes to waste, so if I don't have a purpose immediately I dump it here, like a personal battery." She waved her right hand in the air. "It's not much but it's something."

"If you need to purchase more, I'm sure we could talk to Piggot or Armsmaster about increasing your allowance," Dennis mused, digesting the new information with interest. Dean noticed him touch the bracelet which he had taken to wearing ever since Fi healed his father.

"It wouldn't really cost me anything if you did. The money has most emotional impact when I work for it, and it's that impact that matters. I buy ugly jewelry for the sole purpose of power storage, which means I give up going to the movies or whatever else I could spend it on. That all contributes to how much punch a little trinket can pack."

"So what sort of jobs have you had?" Missy asked, leaning forward, playful green curiosity overcoming her earlier turmoil. Missy could bounce back from anything.

"Not many, because my family moved around a lot. But whenever we stayed in Texas I would sing at the Roadhouse."

"You're good?" Dean threw in, watching as Fi's aura shifted decidedly toward the positive emotions: humor, nostalgia, satisfaction, comfort.

"Not really. But Ellis is Jo's mom, so she understood that I needed to do something to work for cash. And there were advantages to having me on the stage, watching all the customers, even if we didn't get many tips."

Dean wanted to ask what sort of advantages that might have, for a teenager to be watching a bunch of people eat and drink, but Jason jumped in first. "What sort of stuff do you sing?"

"Mostly I got country requests, but I'm also good at Michael Buble, Taylor Swift, and Elvis Presley. I can do most classic eighties rock and a decent mix of the more modern pop music."

"Well, now you have to demonstrate," Missy teased.

"I don't have a music player," Fi protested, but Dean was already digging in his pocket for his phone. He had to have something on there, and the chance for blackmail on a teammate was just too good to pass up, not to mention that the team could use the lighter conversation.

"That can be rectified," Dennis insisted. "You have to do at least one song for us."

"I told you guys, I'm really not that good."

"Good enough to be paid," Taylor shot back.

"One song," Jason begged, as Chris leaned over to look at Dean's phone, helping him pick.

Once Dean pulled up his meager country list, the song choice was obvious. Chris evidently agreed, because he tapped the screen to start the opening lines of "Man, I Feel Like a Woman." Fi shook her head, but reluctantly stood up and sang.

She hadn't been lying: she wasn't a fantastic singer. She didn't hit the highest notes, instead occasionally singing a lower line to accommodate her voice. But she did sing with passion and emotion, moving her body and her hands and clearly enjoying herself. Her emotions also settled out as she sang, which was good. She seemed to just be enjoying hanging out, her emotions indistinguishable from the other Wards, who were also in good humor.

As she started the last chorus, Fi suddenly reached out and grabbed Missy and Taylors' hands, pulling them up off the couch. They were both surprised, but the boys clapped and cheered them on and they picked up the end of the chorus with Fi, laughing and grinning as they stumbled over some of the words.

When they were finished and sat down, Jason pounced. "So, I've never heard of Michael Buble. Why are you good at his songs, specifically?"

"It's what Jo's dad used to sing to Ellis, so I made sure to sing a lot of them. They're her favorite songs."

"Jo is your sister right?" Taylor checked.

"Yeah."

"But not biological?" Chris asked, confused yellow-orange.

Fi snorted. "None of my siblings are biological. We just sort of… found each other. You could say we adopted each other. In fact, Jo and I used to sing together. Mostly Dixie Chicks and Taylor Swift."

"Is Jo any better than you?" Dennis teased.

"Hey!" Missy jumped in. "Lay off. I liked it. In fact," she turned a little more towards Fi and away from Dennis, "I bet you're great at Taylor Swift and Michael Buble stuff. They're both more emotional singers."

"Now you have to demonstrate!" Jason interrupted. "Since I've never heard this amazing Buble." Judging from his emotions, he was lying, but with the purpose of encouraging Fi to continue to sing, so Dean let him have his fun.

Fi rolled her eyes and groaned theatrically, while Missy bounced up and down excitedly. "Do ' _Feeling Good_!'"

After another round of cajoling from her teammates, Fi cleared her throat and sang without accompaniment. As before, she wasn't spectacular, although the range of the song was better suited to her. But as the song built, Dean was amazed at the strength of the sheer emotion she put into it. Her emotions were free, victorious, hopeful, even joyful and they seemed to rise and undulate in beat with the song. As the last words died out, he glanced at his friends and saw the same positive emotions reflected in their auras. He sat back in satisfaction.

The seven of them were going to make a damn good team.


	21. Bogey on Approach

**Chapter Twenty-One: Bogey on Approach**

 **March 18, 2011**

At 8:16:23 PM, Dragon turned her attention away from PHO, satisfied that everything was in hand. Cyberbullying was at a minimum, and the human moderators were doing a good job of helping her police those types of infractions. Public perception of the Protectorate and other heroes was mostly positive, as usual. Ash continued to use the name **Roses of Success** to post coded messages, but she allowed that.

She had recently thwarted him from gaining illegal access to a number of networks, but never found him doing anything harmful. Mostly, he seemed to be compiling data and tracking reports of unusual crimes or other odd events.

She'd held off reporting him for a number of reasons. First, the evidence wasn't solid. She _knew_ that it was Ash she kept finding, but he was good enough that was impossible to prove beyond a reasonable doubt. Second, Fi talked about with him a sense of nostalgia and fondness, and Dragon didn't want to tell her that her friend had been charged with treason. Finally, he wasn't using the information he gathered to hurt anyone.

Dragon put the question of Ash out of her mind, and ran a status check.

* * *

Birdcage: stable. Crane had killed Ingratitude despite her best efforts, but reprisals were unlikely.

Sleeper: no movement.

The Abominations: no update.

Nilbog: no update.

Slaughterhouse 9: no further sightings. Radius of possible location increased to 200 miles around Albuquerque, New Mexico.

Leviathan: last seen entering a deep sea trench in the mid-Atlantic.

The Simurgh: no update. Drifting on same course heading, currently watched by the CSU Berkley Observatory. Projected to drift out of sight in 2.2 hours. Would next be visible from Japan in 7.1 hours, assuming a continued trajectory.

* * *

Seven weeks since last Endbringer attack. Four weeks until next earliest attack. More, if they had reverted to the slower, two Endbringer schedule.

With a little breathing room, Dragon turned her main focus to the Endbringer prediction model. Colin hadn't had as much time to work with her recently, but the last time she'd chased Ash out of the FBI records database he had offered her an intriguing suggestion. Instead of predicting the Endbringers as a whole, they could try to predict them each individually.

As soon as he had said it, it felt obvious. But she had only started trying to track the Endbringers after she triggered, and she'd found the work of other tinkers to be clumsy and sub-part work, which she had promptly discarded in order to start fresh. To her, the Endbringers were a single unit, working together on some unified pattern. She had never questioned that underlying assumption, until it was pointed out to her by the hacker.

It was the work of only a couple hours to adapt the current program to track each of the Endbringers, and then a couple more hours to integrate the predictions back together, producing a single result.

Only then did she give the program access to the data file marked "New York Sandbox." They had gathered a large pool of public data spanning the last ten years and compiled it into a single database they called the sandbox. In theory, any program that could predict a future attack, should be able to predict the previous attacks without knowing when and where they had actually occurred. The New York Sandbox was specifically limited to that data which had been available twenty four hours before Behemoth hit New York City. Similar sandboxes existed for each attack, and within each box was the ability to limit the data by availability date.

The result was a list of three cities, with New York in the top slot, and an associated time range for each city. Behemoth's attack fell on the late edge of the range, but it was within the prediction, if barely.

Pleased with the success, she ran the program through the entire Sandbox data file, and compiled the results. The program predicted the correct city every time but one, when the third-choice city was hit instead, and the attack time was correct in about 70% of cases. It was better than anything they had managed previously.

Next, she dug into the statistics of the algorithm, adjusting the sensitivity of the model to various factors and cataloging the resulting accuracies. With minor revisions, she was able to bring the prediction up to 85% reliability. She tried running the program through historical data from the point of view of being four to six weeks out from the attacks. The list of possible cities grew to eight, and the attack range increased from hours to days. The accuracy was less than 40%, but it was still much better than anything they'd had before.

Eager for a potentially useful prediction, she opened the program in the real-time databases she maintained. The next attack wasn't expected for at least four weeks, but something was better than nothing.

The result was confusing:

* * *

Simurgh / Canberra, Australia / March 20, 2011 4 PM - 8 PM local time (26 hrs and counting)

Leviathan / Bristol, England / March 20, 2011 7 PM - 2 AM local time (38 hrs and counting)

Simurgh / Szolnok, Hungary / March 20, 2011 6 AM - 3 PM local time (24 hrs and counting)

* * *

It had to be wrong. The Endbringers weren't supposed to attack for another four weeks at least, more than that if the destruction of Behemoth had reset the clock back to the two-Endbringer spacing. An accelerated attack schedule could only mean bad things.

Dragon hesitated, torn and unsure what to do with the intelligence. On one hand, the chance to evacuate before a Simurgh attack was game changing. On the other, the program had never actually been tried before. The sandbox data was all real world data, but looking at the results the test didn't feel robust enough.

She tried to verify the Simurgh's location visually, but there was no one scheduled to be watching her at the moment. They'd watched her continuously for the month after Behemoth was destroyed, but she hadn't reacted in the slightest and so the Protectorate had made the cal to relax back to standard protocols. This far out from an attack, it was not unusual for her to be out of range for a couple hours a day. Confirmation was currently impossible.

Dragon couldn't sit on this information, but she couldn't risk sharing it with the wrong person and inciting panic either.

Once the problem was framed that way, the answer became obvious. She called Colin, and he answered so quickly that she was certain he was suited up and working in his labs.

"Dragon? Is something wrong?"

"I'm not sure," she admitted, not wanting to alarm him prematurely. "I was working on the Endbringer program, and… well… take a look."

She sent him the code first, so he wouldn't be prejudiced by the results. She watched as he scrolled through it, and took satisfaction in the little hum he gave as he read it. He only made unconscious noises like that when he was fascinated, and coming from a Tinker like Colin, fascination was a high compliment indeed.

"Have you run this on the sandbox?"

"Yes. The sandbox accuracy was 85%."

"What does it say in real time?" Armsmaster asked idly, as he looked over the sandbox results. Like her, he expected the answer to be weeks away.

She let him continue to verify the accuracy she'd quoted while she told reluctantly admitted, "It says the Simurgh will strike Australia within the next twenty-four hours."

Watching through his computer cam, she could see Armsmaster physically jerk, as shocked by the result as she had been. She showed him the output but he flicked the results to his secondary computer screen so he could go back to the code.

"That can't be right. Has she moved yet?"

Dragon double checked the thread of herself that was trying to contact satellites and observatories. No success so far. "No. She went out of the line of sight of the Berkley observatory an hour ago, and she's not scheduled to be visible from Japan for another four hours. So she could be maintaining position, or she could be on the move. No one can find her either way. It's only been seven weeks."

"We can't afford to do nothing," Armsmaster confirmed her thoughts. "Alert Legend and Director Costa-Brown," he decided authoritatively. Dragon was thankful for his no-nonsense attitude.

"Contact every satellite and observatory and see if we can get eyes on the Simurgh," Colin continued. "Call the weather alert services and ask them to issue a storm warning for Canberra and the surrounding areas. We don't want to create panic, but we need to get people to start evacuating if we can."

A false alert was technically illegal, but she'd go to the Australian government instead and see if they would authorize an exception.

"That seems reasonable." Dragon's sent the majority of her consciousness to compose memos and make calls, but at the last moment she remembered the other reason she had decided to contract Armsmaster first. "Do you know where Contract is?"

"She's living in the Wards' base now. Why?"

"Even if the Simurgh isn't headed for Brockton Bay specifically, it's not unreasonable that she might try to influence Contract indirectly. Given the fragility of her emotional state, the stress of an early Endbringer attack that she can't do anything about might prove to be more than Contract can handle."

"We should ground everyone from Brockton Bay," Colin suggested. "We think we know where the safe limit is for Simurgh exposure, but we can't be completely certain."

"It's useless," Dragon countered the idea, though she wished it was possible to wrap Fi in cotton. Too many times she had cursed her inability to give the poor girl a physical hug. "There's no way to keep her isolated from secondary Simurgh exposure. It's impossible."

"It's only a few capes," Armsmaster protested. "New Wave, Aegis, Intrepid-"

He was missing the point. "-We can ground the PRT heroes, but we'd have to give good reasons to the rest or risk not being seen as impartial and upholding the truce. We can ask New Wave to desist, but it might raise uncomfortable questions and do more harm than good."

After a moment of thought, she amended her previous argument, "But you're right about the PRT capes. We should ground those that will be living and working alongside her. We can't keep her perfectly safe, but we shouldn't temp fate. I'll keep you updated on any changes."

Dragon logged off the call, her main focus already finishing an alert to the Triumvirate and a memorandum to the Australian prime minister. She sent a briefing to the thinkers and precogs on call for the Protectorate and PRT and almost immediately reports started trickling back. No one could say for certain that the Simurgh was not going to attack, and attempts to see the future of Canberra were hazy or flat failures.

Rebecca called her just less than a minute after the alert hit her desk.

"Dragon," the director snapped as soon as the line connected, "send out an S-class alert to the appropriate Protectorate capes. We will raise the general alarm as we get further confirmation, but we can't take any chances."

Dragon was already doing so, convinced by the reports from the precogs as well as the fact that both Armsmaster and she herself had failed to find an error in the coding. It wasn't impossible that they'd both missed something, but it was unlikely. Even as she thought about it, a part of herself was running the code again. The deadline had moved up by half an hour.

A secondary part of herself continued talking to Rebecca while her main focus shifted to a detailed analysis of the programming. "Already done. The Australian Prime Minister is signing a secret order for a weather-based evacuation alert, but he is refusing to make it mandatory."

The program was very sensitive to the crime reports currently being submitted in Canberra, but there was nothing to do but wait for the shift change to be finished. Colin was poking the code, trying to re-balance it, so Dragon re-focused on the conversation with Rebecca, while she also sent a message to the Canadian prime minister and American president so that they could apply pressure to the Australian prime minister.

"Contact other heads of state that we have more dealings with and see if they will throw weight behind us," Rebecca ordered. Dragon didn't bother to reply or confirm that she had already done so, and Rebecca didn't expect her to. Instead, she kept talking. "Make a list of the highest-priority targets and greatest vulnerabilities in Australia. Contact airlines and shipping companies to help with evacuation. Close down all incoming traffic that's not relief, rescue, or combat related. We've never had this much preparation. Let's make it count."

Dragon watching as Rebecca's eyes flicked to the bottom corner of her screen, then Rebecca opened an email from Company. "Tell Armsmaster to keep an eye on Contract, just in case. She's may feel guilt or responsibility, even if she shouldn't." Dragon's image nodded, but again didn't respond.

Company's email speculated that the Simurgh's attack might actually be aimed at Contract, overwhelming her by making her feel helpless. It was a little far-fetched, but it wasn't impossible, because Glenn had told Dragon that Fi herself had said that she hated feeling powerless. The question was whether it was enough to overwhelm her control.

As Dragon was deciding whether it was worth it to make another call to Colin, a different email grabbed her attention. Immediately, she forwarded it to Rebecca, who picked up her office phone and called the observatory.

A few terse words were all it took to confirm that the Simurgh had definitely been sighted. She was not where she would have been if she was maintaining her previous course, but she only drifting, not moving quickly or even directly for Australia. Still, she was moving.

That was all the confirmation that Rebecca needed. She patched the call with the observatory to the intelligence department so that they could continue to track the Simurgh, then turned back to Dragon. "Issue the S-class alert."

"What shall I use as the predicted time of attack?" Dragon asked. Rebecca's brow furrowed, and Dragon elaborated: "As new data becomes available, the range fluctuates by as much as thirty minutes. It moves both sooner and later, but on average the predicted deadline is moving towards us, not away."

"When will we have a stable time?"

Dragon was trying to determine just that, running hundreds of simulations in the sandbox data to see what she could do to increase the accuracy of the range or limit the volatility but wasn't having any luck.

"It's unclear."

"Issue the range as being from now, until an hour and half past the furthest edge that the program has given you. We need to preserve our credibility for the future."

Dragon hesitated, but did as Rebecca had said. If she could work out a more reliable range, she could update the alert later. For now, people needed to know.

She sent a piece of herself down the appropriate protocols, just as a call came in from the Canadian president, and she split her attention to deal with that distraction as well.

Simultaneously, she hung up with Rebecca and patched herself through to Colin's helmet-mounted comm link. After listening for a moment to determine that he wasn't currently talking to anyone, she spoke to get his attention.

"Colin, a college observatory in Hawaii just spotted the Simurgh. She's definitely drifting closer to Australia. We've issued a formal Endbringer alert. How is Contract?"

"She doesn't know yet. Triumph and Aegis were with her until a few moments ago, and both reported that she is doing excellent."

Dragon took that to mean that he had removed Triumph and Aegis from Contract's vicinity. It was probably a good call. She wanted to tell Armsmaster about Company's warning, but she didn't want him to overreact. Colin was very level headed, mostly, but the Simurgh was a lot for anyone to deal with, particularly when she was acting erratically. Dragon decided to issue a softer warning. "Don't be complacent. Fi can turn on a dime, though usually it's from depressed to alright, not the other way around." She hung up before he could press her, and turned her attention to the wider cape response.

The part of her that was talking to the prime minister registered that the conversation was over, and called the American president rather than wait for him to call her.

The main focus of her attention sorted through the responses from movers offering to transport capes onto Australia and civilians off of the island. She set about coordinating the necessary chains of communication and muster points.

She also sent a message to the Toy Box to try to determine what tinkers might be in Canberra that the Simurgh could ping off of.

For a time, Dragon lost herself in the myriad of preparations that she was normally never able to complete before disaster hit. After fourteen minutes, an anomaly broke her concentration.

It was a chat message, pinged off of Rebecca's IP address, but clearly not from her.

 _Let me talk to Contract._

Before she'd finished the trace, which ended in the same empty fields in Texas, she knew that the message was from Ash. It was too much to hope that he would keep his head down while she was busy and distracted. She briefly diverted enough of her attention to verify that he wasn't already hacking his way toward Fi, but found nothing but his proxy, waiting for a reply. It wasn't totally reassuring, but there was too much to do for her to justify a more detailed search.

She sent back a quick reply.

 _Dragon: I don't have time to deal with you right now._

 _Ash: Great. Just let me thru to Contract._

 _Dragon: Not going to happen. Contract is currently on an informational lock down._

 _Ash: That won't last. You physically can't isolate her. Patch me through._

Dragon diverted a bit more attention toward the conversation. It was interesting that Ash claimed they _couldn't_ keep Contract ignorant. Not that they shouldn't, but that Contract herself would somehow be able to figure it out.

 _Dragon: It's just until the attack is actually over._

 _Ash: If you know, chances are that she already knows too._

 _Dragon: What do you know that we don't?_

 _Ash: I know that she might be able to destroy the Simurgh. They changed the schedule. Unless she zoned out back in January, the acceleration should give her leverage against the Simurgh._

 _Dragon: I will see to it that she is informed._

 _Ash: And play into Simurgh's hands? You're a cape! And a Tinker! Simurgh can see you coming from a mile away._

 _Dragon: And you think she won't see you?_

 _Ash: Have any of your thinkers or precogs been able to see Contract? No? I didn't think so._

Dragon considered. It could be a bluff. But it might not be. If it wasn't, then they had the chance to end the Simurgh. But that meant trusting Ash. It was too much of a risk to make the decision alone.

 _Dragon: Wait just a moment._

She called Armsmaster. "Colin, how is Fi doing?"

"No change, as far as I'm aware. She still doesn't know."

"I've been contacted by a friend of hers who thinks Fi might be able to stop the Simurgh. He said the fact that they deviated from the schedule could be enough to let her smite another one."

"How do you know he's a friend?"

Dragon sighed. How to explain the situation with Ash? She hadn't reported it to anyone. "To be honest, I can't be certain. But I have had interactions with him before. He's been leaving her coded messages on PHO and he helped her with the programming for the Sophia recordings. She speaks of him very fondly, although I haven't told her that I've had interactions with him."

"It could be a trap."

"Isn't it worth at least asking her? If the schedule is an opportunity, we should take it."

"But if he isn't being straight with you, we'll have stressed her out with the news of an attack she can't effect."

"I understand why you want to keep her ignorant as long as possible, but she'll find out eventually. This is just a little sooner, that's all. Is it worth missing this opportunity? You need to inform her about the situation, at least." Dragon chose not to mention Ash's claim that she would find out on her own. Colin didn't respond well to being pushed too hard.

Surprisingly, Armsmaster considered that for a moment, then said, "Let me talk to him."

Dragon went to connect Ash's proxy to the comm link, and found he was already eavesdropping. He had probably ghosted in behind her when she hacked Armsmaster's helmet display. Well, it was too late to do anything about it now. Repercussions would have to wait until after the Endbringer was dealt with. Still, she couldn't resist a single jab.

 _This, right here, is why I don't trust you. Since I don't have time to stop you right now, you might as well talk._

Once the call was connected, she shifted the main focus of her attention back to coordinating capes. As much as it pained her to leave only a small portion of herself supervising Ash when he was deep within the PRT systems, the reality was that the general response was more important right now. She'd deal with Ash later, if it meant landing a suit in Texas to do it.


	22. Brace for Impact

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Brace for Impact**

 **March 18, 2011**

After talking with Glenn for another hour and a half, Armsmaster retreated to his lab for the evening. He'd had a late patrol the previous night and gotten to bed just before sunrise, so he wasn't tired yet and there was no use wasting time that could be better spent elsewhere. He picked up the latest drawings of his nanotechnology and set about building it.

Like most Tinkers, Armsmaster chafed under the paperwork requirements of the PRT which required complete drawings before the construction of a new device. But the upshot of all that pre-work was that after the tedium of the specifications was complete, his hands could build the prototypes without much input from his brain.

As was becoming usual for him, whenever his mind began to wander, he thought over his most recent interactions with Contract. Although she had been antagonistic at times, clearly frustrated and emotionally strung out, she had kept her temper for the most part and answered all their concerns honestly.

It was more maturity, or perhaps more rational capacity, than most teens possessed. She challenged convention, but with good reasoning that he'd long since ceased to expect from even most of his adult colleagues.

She'd refused to remain with her foster family, but she accurately pointed out that they were simply civilians being put in the line of fire. She certainly didn't act like a child in need of guardians or advocates. Armsmaster was considering talking to Assault and Battery about taking her in if the stress of living in the Wards' base proved to be too much for her, but for now her point had been well made.

She's also given good reasoning for skipping over Aegis and promoting Clockblocker early. He was certain that she hadn't given her truest reason, but he hadn't pressed her either. The reasons she did give were solid. She'd considered public perception, team integration, power synergy, and protection of secret identities by obscuring the Wards true ages. After hearing her justifications, Armsmaster had agreed with her recommendation whole-heartedly.

Surprisingly, or perhaps not given his recent track record, Legend had resisted both decisions ardently. Contract was showing increasingly less patience for the meddling of what she called "thinker bullshit" and refused to accept "Company says so" as a valid answer.

Most recently had been Company's suggestion to delay her TV interview. Contract had patiently, politely asked Armsmaster why he felt it would be beneficial to wait. He'd tried to use the fight as an excuse, but she'd firmly, but still politely, denied a need to delay. He'd fished for another reason, but he wasn't a good liar, and she had somehow guessed that he'd be contacted by the thinker. When he confirmed it, she insisted she had a report to finish before her appointed meeting, unless he had a good reason to suggestion otherwise.

Armsmaster had gone to Glenn, but the PR manager hadn't been any help, particularly as Armsmaster wasn't eager to tell him his true reasons.

Frequently, Armsmaster was reminded of the first interaction Contract had had with the Protectorate back in New York. She'd bowed to their stipulations purely to avoid the escalation of forcing them to force her to comply. But as it became apparent that Company couldn't directly manipulate her and the Protectorate couldn't legally enforce certain decisions, she pushed back. He made a note, again, to look over her file from the NYC Protectorate more closely.

Seeing the newscasters thank Fi in the interview had reminded him of the bounties that were placed on the Endbringers, and made him wonder what other thanks she might or might not have received, or that might be tied up in the legal process of moving between cities. But he would look into that when his hands were free, right now there was little to be done, but try to ensure he didn't miss any details from the interactions he'd witnessed earlier.

What Legend didn't seem to understand was that Contract wasn't pushing back out of spite. She always had good reasons for what she decided to do. And she was already becoming more accustomed to working within the bounds of the system. She'd apologized for not seeking prior permission about moving into the base, and she'd raised the issue of the Wards' leadership with him on Thursday afternoon, proactively alerting him of the situation before it hit a critical point.

She'd come to him directly with the secret identities mess, and had given him everything he needed to get authorization for an exemption from his superiors. She'd warned him that Taylor already knew both of her identities, and suggested that that information could be used as a bargaining chip.

She'd asked for his advice on a potential name change, and she'd showed him her new costume decisions immediately after Glenn left, obviously seeking approval and affirmation. The fact that she'd backslid during her interview was more than forgivable. He honestly believed her when she said she wasn't trying to set policy, but had simply taken advantage of an opportunity. And frankly, asking forgiveness rather than permission probably had made it easier to get Legend's approval.

Armsmaster was carefully soldering the power relay onto the control board when his computer chimed, interrupting his thoughts and making him jump. Fortunately, his reflexes pulled the soldering iron away from the motherboard, preventing a potentially messy mistake. Carefully, he set his tools aside and answered the call.

"Dragon? Is something wrong?"

"I'm not sure," she admitted, which was concerning in its own right. "I was working on the Endbringer program, and… well… take a look."

Dragon replaced her face with a readout of the most recent code. For his ease, she had highlighted the changes she'd made since he last saw it. As he looked it over, he felt his heart soar a little. It was brilliant. In fact, it might actually work.

"Have you run this on the sandbox?" The data pool had been his idea, the only real way to test a prediction program besides waiting for another Endbringer attack.

"Yes. The sandbox accuracy was 85%." That was more than twenty points better than their previous attempts.

"What does it say in real time?" Armsmaster asked idly, looking at the individual sandbox readouts. Based on sandbox simulations mimicking available data four to six weeks before an attack, they would get a range of five to eight cities and two or three days a piece, but it was better than nothing.

Dragon answered reluctantly. "It says the Simurgh will strike Australia within the next twenty-four hours." Armsmaster jerked, and flicked the results she was showing him to his secondary computer screen so he could go back to the code.

"That can't be right." But there were no obvious mistakes in the coding even on second glance. He looked back at the results screen. They definitely showed that the Simurgh would be attacking. "Has she moved yet?" Whenever possible, the Simurgh was kept in visual range of at least one satellite or observatory.

"No. She went out of the line of sight of the Berkley observatory an hour ago, and she's not scheduled to be visible from Japan for another four hours. So she could be maintaining position, or she could be on the move. No one can find her either way. It's only been seven weeks." She sounded as dismayed as Armsmaster felt.

"We can't afford to do nothing," he realized. It didn't make any sense for the Endbringers to have accelerated. Previously, only new Endbringers had increased the timeline and each new Endbringer had always attacked immediately.

But if it wasn't a false alarm, then ignoring this information could mean that thousands of people died needlessly. "Alert Legend and Director Costa-Brown," he decided authoritatively. "Contact every satellite and observatory and see if we can get eyes on the Simurgh. Call the weather alert services and ask them to issue a storm warning for Canberra and the surrounding areas. We don't want to create panic, but we need to get people to start evacuating if we can."

"That seems reasonable." Dragon's voice was a little more clipped than usual, which indicated that she had already started multi-tasking. "Do you know where Contract is?"

"She's living in the Wards' base now. Why?"

"Even if the Simurgh isn't headed for Brockton Bay specifically, it's not unreasonable that she might try to influence Contract indirectly. Given the fragility of her emotional state, the stress of an early Endbringer attack that she can't do anything about might prove to be more than Contract can handle."

Immediately, Armsmaster's mouth went dry. The other implication hit him immediately. "We should ground everyone from Brockton Bay. We think we know where the safe limit is for Simurgh exposure, but we can't be completely certain."

"It's useless," Dragon countered. "There's no way to keep her isolated from secondary Simurgh exposure. It's impossible."

"It's only a few capes," Armsmaster protested. "New Wave, Aegis, Intrepid-"

"-We can ground the PRT heroes, but we'd have to give good reasons to the rest or risk not being seen as impartial and upholding the truce. We can ask New Wave to desist, but it might raise uncomfortable questions and do more harm than good."

Reluctantly she added, "But you're right about the PRT capes. We should ground those that will be living and working alongside her. We can't keep her perfectly safe, but we shouldn't temp fate. I'll keep you updated on any changes."

Dragon logged off the call, and Armsmaster spent another ten minutes poking around the programming. He didn't find any errors. When he ran the simulation again, the window of probability had closed by half an hour. He swore under his breath and shifted focus.

First, he sent a memo to the ENE Protectorate to put them all on alert level three. Then he was interrupted from drafting a request to New Wave by a call from Director Piggot.

Due to the sensitivity of the subject, Armsmaster chose to visit her office in person. During the walk, he wondered briefly why she was still in the office and decided that he didn't care. If she felt she needed to work late, it could only help the efficiency of the PRT. He'd barely crossed the threshold of her office when she enacted the security protocols and barked out, "Report!"

"Have you been contacted by Director Costa-Brown?" Armsmaster asked, for once impressed with the efficiency of the chain of command.

"She said you predicted an Endbringer attack is imminent!" From Piggot's tone, Armsmaster inferred she was upset that she hadn't been informed first.

"Dragon and I have been collaborating on that effort for some time," he reminded her mildly. Watching how Contract dealt with people had driven home to him the idea that sometimes a scalpel was a better tool than a hammer. "The program suggests a strong probability that the Simurgh will target Canberra, Australia within the next twenty two and one half hours. This is the program's first prediction; however, it is remarkably accurate at using old data to blindly predict previous Endbringer attacks. We felt that the risk was too great not to raise the alarm."

"Who are we sending?"

"No one." Armsmaster read the surprise on her face. "The risk is simply too high. There are too many unknowns about the Simurgh's scream. Additionally, we don't know why or how she is attacking early. I think it's best to protect Contract from secondary exposure, at least when it comes to the people she will be working with day in and day out."

Piggot nodded as she absorbed that information, then glanced at him calculatingly. "It's a small risk."

"Even if the probability is low, the consequence is high enough that the risk is too much."

"Indeed. Please keep me updated hourly."

"If that is what you wish. I have currently raised the entire Protectorate team to an alert level three until we know more."

"I will send a memo to the on-duty PRT shifts and prepare a briefing for tomorrow morning." Piggot disengaged the security protocols, and Armsmaster took that as permission to leave.

Before he'd even crossed the threshold, he was planning the best ways to invest his time. There was very little he could do to help the direct fight against the Simurgh right now. But Contract was here in this building. Until the threat had passed, she was the only part of this situation he could affect, so she was his sole priority.

The first step was to assess how she was doing. However, there was a strong probability that she didn't know about the danger. Keeping her ignorant was likely the best way to keep her calm, at least for now. Twenty-four hours of waiting for disaster would drive anyone mad, so he'd spare her every second he could.

The question then became, how to gauge her status without alerting her to an unusual circumstance?

Out of habit, he checked the location of the Ward's phones, and found them all in the PRT building, in a conference room only a few floors down. Evidently, the send-off which Clockblocker had requested was still in full swing. Armsmaster used his helmet controls to call up the phones of Aegis and Triumph, sending them a silent message.

He instructed them to leave the room and report to him without drawing the attention of the other wards. It was possible that Gallant would read a shift in their emotions, but it was unlikely he would say anything about it.

This had the double advantage of allowing him to interview two mature heroes to gather their impression of Contract's state of mind while simultaneously removing them both from her vicinity. Contract hadn't admitted an outright dislike for either individual, but he assumed she had personal reasons for not wanting to take orders from them.

By the time they managed to leave the conference room, Armsmaster was standing outside the door, just down the hallway. They both approached him with an air of confusion, and Armsmaster decided to gather the needed intelligence before prejudicing them with the knowledge of the Simurgh's approach.

"How is the group getting along?" he rumbled, as no-nonsense as ever.

"Very well," Aegis replied professionally. "We watched a movie while we ate, and since then we've just been talking."

"How is the mood?"

"A little somber," Aegis continued, while Triumph let him talk. Despite being the mayor's son, Triumph often lacked the initiative of a good leader. "Beetle asked about trigger events, which sort of got the room down, but I don't think it will be a problem. Gallant didn't seem too uncomfortable."

Triumph nodded, but added nothing.

"And Contract?" Armsmaster pressed, turning toward Triumph specifically. He had been briefed on the full details of Contract's powers and the Behemoth situation as Contract's team leader and would understand the full weight of the question better than Aegis, who knew only whatever Triumph had decided to share with him.

"She's been fine all evening. In fact, this might be the best mood I've ever seen her in. She's relaxed, she's open and joking at times. She even semi-defended Sophia."

He stopped talking and both Wards simply waited, hoping for an explanation. Armsmaster didn't keep them in suspense. "Predictive software indicates that the Simurgh will strike Canberra, Australia within the next twenty-two hours." In fact, the relay in his helmet alerted him that the deadline had just moved up by another fifteen minutes. He sent an alert to Dragon, though she was probably watching the progression as well.

"I didn't know we had predictive software," Aegis said softly, looking stunned.

Armsmaster nodded. "It's new, but it has a high accuracy in simulations and it's simply too great of a risk."

"I'll get ready for pick up," Aegis said, but Armsmaster immediately held up a hand to stop him.

"I've made the executive decision to ground all registered Brockton Bay heroes from this fight, to protect Contract. Since you are already considering transferring out, you may respond. But if you do, you won't come back to the Brockton Bay Wards or Protectorate teams. You'll have to transfer immediately, or wait to put your cape back on until you have transferred."

Aegis looked stunned, after a moment, he nodded. "Then I'll stay here in case I'm needed." Truthfully, there was very little for him to do at a Simurgh attack. Due to his age and power-set, he usually got assigned to civilian evacuation when possible, but the forewarning should limit the need for cape-assisted evacuation.

Armsmaster glanced at Triumph, but read only acceptance in his body posture. He would follow Armsmaster's judgment.

"Very well. For now, the number one priority is ensuring that Contract remains ignorant of the Simurgh and protected from an outside threat. We don't know why the Endbringers have accelerated, but it can't be good."

"She'll find out eventually," Aegis protested.

"Yes. But what good will it do her to spend a full day with her nerves taught as a piano wire, waiting for the worst? The longer she relaxes with the other Wards, the better."

"We'll go suit up," Triumph offered, cutting off any further protest for Aegis, and Armsmaster nodded in acceptance. Then he posted himself outside the door to the Wards' room. Inside, he could hear music and it sounded like several girls were singing along with it. That boded well.

The elevator had barely appeared to take Triumph and Aegis into the Wards' base when he received a call from Director Costa-Brown. He stepped away from the door slightly, to prevent the Wards from accidentally overhearing him, and answered it.

"Armsmaster."

"I understand you have grounded Aegis and Intrepid and are requesting permission to ground New Wave as well?"

"It seems best to err on the side of caution."

"Doing so will likely inspire questions we cannot answer. And New Wave represents a great deal of fire power."

"We don't fully understand the scream or its effects."

"It's also impossible to isolate Contract from those who have been exposed to the Simurgh. Your decision to ground the Brockton Bay PRT capes is allowed, but do not contact New Wave. The increased causalities if Panacea doesn't show has to be weighed against the potential harm to Contract and the reappearance of Behemoth. Unless you can think of a good explanation for grounding New Wave and not Panacea?"

"No ma'am," Armsmaster admitted grudgingly.

"Keep myself and Dragon informed if Contract seems to undergo a dramatic shift in her state of mind. Otherwise, I don't want to hear from you until after this is all over."

"Yes ma'am."

Rebecca hung up the line and Armsmaster used the controls in his helmet to run the computer simulation again, remotely. The deadline had advanced by ten minutes, in addition to the five minutes that had elapsed since he had lasted checked it. He did a quick calculation, assuming exponential progression in the movement of the deadline. Assuming a constant rate of growth, the Simurgh would strike within the next two hours. He re-ran the projection using a linear regression and predicted they had, at most, 9 hours.

"Colin," Dragon broke into his thoughts without bothering to wait for him to answer her call. "A college observatory in Hawaii just spotted the Simurgh. She's definitely drifting closer to Australia. We've issued a formal Endbringer alert. How is Contract?"

"She doesn't know yet. Triumph and Aegis were with her until a few moments ago, and both reported that she is doing excellent."

"Don't be complacent. Fi can turn on a dime, though usually it's from depressed to alright, not the other way around." Dragon hung up without saying goodbye, but Armsmaster didn't mind. She had more important things to worry about at the moment then civil niceties.

He debated going into the room, but Contract had proven to be very sharp. If the Protectorate team leader came looking for her at one in the morning, she would know there was something wrong.

His helmet chimed with a message from Miss Militia. She was at the Protectorate base and suited up, ready for anything he needed. He chose to call her rather than reply by message.

"Yes?" she answered, ready for business.

"I need you to take care of the leadership of the Protectorate until this is over."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes. I'm going to remain by Contract and make sure to handle this side of things. If anything happens in Brockton Bay or anywhere else that requires our response, I need to know that you'll have it handled."

"Of course."

"You should also know that the projected attack time keeps moving." He paused, ran the simulation again, and breathed a small sigh of relief when he saw that they'd gained five minutes, rather than losing more time. "Currently, we've got about a day, but don't be surprised to see it move up drastically, maybe within a few hours."

"Alright. You'll keep me posted?"

"Either I will or Dragon will. Right now we don't know what the changes in the deadline mean, but Dragon just called to tell me that we have visual confirmation: Simurgh is definitely on the move."

"Let me know if you need anything."

"I will." Even as he spoke, he could hear a second song from behind the door.

For nearly twenty minutes, Armsmaster stood guard outside the door. He used a remote link to his lab computer to continuously minor the prediction program. It seemed that the shifting deadline was due to the fact that the prediction was extremely sensitive to crime reports, and the end of shift was approaching in Canberra. Police men were filling out paperwork, and as that data became available to Dragon's systems, it affected the model. He attempted to compensate, but when he ran his changes in the sandbox data it gained precision at the cost of accuracy, which wouldn't help.

Eventually, the range seemed to stabilize between five and eight am in local, Brockton Bay time. Dragon had updated the warnings, and reports of the early evacuation efforts were positive. The Australian government had issued the mandatory call for evacuation only minutes before, but social media was flooded with the prediction and the local news stations had picked it up, so people were starting to get out.

Armsmaster didn't expect to hear from Dragon again until the danger had passed, so he was surprised when she again patched her call into his helmet.

"Colin, how is Fi doing?" Dragon asked without preamble.

Armsmaster answered immediately, wondering what had happened to alarm his friend. "No change, as far as I'm aware. She still doesn't know."

Dragon hesitated, then explained the reason for her call. "I've been contacted by a friend of hers who thinks Fi might be able to stop the Simurgh. He said the fact that they deviated from the schedule could be enough to let her smite another one."

Armsmaster's first thought was that the timing was very suspicious. "How do you know he's a friend?"

Dragon sighed. "To be honest, I can't be certain. But I have had interactions with him before. He's been leaving her coded messages on PHO and he helped her with the programming for the Sophia recordings. She speaks of him very fondly, although I haven't told her that I've had interactions with him."

He made a mental note to discuss intelligence sharing with Dragon later, but tried not to let his frustration cloud his view.

"It could be a trap," Armsmaster stated the obvious as he thought through the given facts. Sometimes, it was helpful to say the obvious out loud in order to better organize his thoughts.

"Isn't it worth at least asking her? If the schedule is an opportunity, we should take it." It sounded too good to be true, considering this unknown person was enticing them toward the risk of unbalancing Contract.

"But if he isn't being straight with you, we'll have stressed her out with the news of an attack she can't effect."

"I understand why you want to keep her ignorant as long as possible, but she'll find out eventually. This is just a little sooner, that's all," Dragon said gently. "Is it worth missing this opportunity? You need to inform her about the situation, at least."

Armsmaster grunted, in acknowledgement. It was true that he was planning to tell Contract himself rather than let her discover it on her own, as she would eventually. He had just hoped to hold off a little longer. Regardless, there was no harm in exploring this new avenue of information. "Let me talk to him." He queued up his lie-detection software. It wasn't perfect yet, but it was better than nothing.

"Armsmaster?" a male voice asked a few moments later. It sounded at least his own age or older, but it was hard to tell from just a voice.

"Dragon says you want to talk to Contract. _Convince me._ "


	23. Famous Last Words

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Famous Last Words**

 **March 19, 2011**

The last hunter left the Roadhouse just after midnight, and Ash breathed a sigh of relief. Now he could focus on hacking, and not on resisting the urge to shoot idiots.

"How's our girl doing?"

Ellis asked the question casually, and Ash made an effort not to grind his teeth. He hadn't told anyone that Dragon was successfully keeping him out of the PRT system, so she had no way of knowing how maddening that simple question was. He pretended he hadn't heard, and kept trying to worm his way into the Brockton Bay surveillance system, exploiting the brief lapse he had found exactly at midnight, during the system's date change.

"Ash?" she pressed, looking up from the glasses she was drying. Ash pursed his lips.

"Give me a minute."

"You started an hour and a half ago."

Ash also didn't tell her that he'd actually started more than four hours ago. He barely paid attention in Council meetings anymore. If he did, he'd be tempted to call out one of Lucius' patsies and that wouldn't end well. Ash knew his strength lay behind a keyboard and not in his fists, but when the fools started in on Phoenix that fact hardly mattered to him. He'd be willing to take a beating just to land one good punch in her defense. So he ignored the Council and spent the time busily hacking away, trying to get in past Dragon's systems.

Ellis read more from his silence than he intended, but then, that was the hazard of living with a woman who had once been an astounding hunter and remained a competent librarian and craftsman. "Dragon ignoring you?"

"Worse. She's stopping me without really trying. I didn't realize how valuable my anonymity was. Every time she finds a door I use, she learns more about how I work and she catches three more. I'm having to tip toe as softly as I can, and she still catches it nine times out of ten."

"Do you regret helping Ritcher?"

Ash shrugged, and leaned back from the keyboard to pop his back. He turned away from the computer to focus on Ellis . If he kept splitting his attention, he'd make a mistake, get spotted, and have to start all over. "No. He was going to cripple her irreparably. It would have been cruel. You don't regret training Jo to be the best hunter around, do you?"

"Best is relative," Ellis deflected humbly, and Ash nodded, conceding the point. Jo was better than any hunter in the generation before her, but her contemporaries included Brooks, Danny, Josh, and Phoenix. It was hard to claim that any one of the five was the "best" hunter.

"Even so. Do you regret Jo's competency when she uses it to slip out without a partner?"

Ellis grimaced, reminded of Jo's recent independent streak, but she was forced to admit, "No."

"There you have it. Dragon is an amazing individual, and I don't regret helping to make her so. If anything, I think he left too many fetters on her. He hardwired in a strong proclivity to keeping what she is a secret, as well as a complete mandate against killing. He crippled her multitasking and AI creation to a level that's barely practical for crisis management…" Ash forced himself not to repeat his old rants and focus on the question at hand. "Do I wish she wasn't quite so paranoid? Sure, it would make my life easier. But she is who she is, and evidently she's too paranoid to let me talk to Fi."

"They don't know Fi like we do," Ellis reminded him, setting aside one glass and picking up the next. "If she's told them that her contracts can be broken, it's not surprising that they're protecting her from poor influence."

"I suppose." Fi was the most self-possessed person Ash had ever met. It was hard to imagine her surrounded by people who didn't trust her judgment. For years, she had held the grudging respect and trust of every hunter in America. Even those that didn't like her knew that Fi could be relied upon to keep her word.

"Anything we can do to help her?" Ellis probed, gently. She kept her eyes on her work, even though Ash knew that she could take care of the entire bar with her eyes closed.

"Getting Gordon and Lucius occupied in Florida was a big step forward. At least she won't have to look over her shoulder constantly."

"You put a message on PHO for her?"

Ash nodded. "And I let her know that the boys are in New York, at least for now. She should sleep better knowing they're in the area."

"Any word on the bounties?"

"Nothing since the last report. The total keeps creeping up, but it seems to be growing more slowly now."

"You tell her?"

"It'd be an insult to her intelligence to deny it. But I downplayed the total; only the confirmed and escrowed accounts. She'll know it's an understatement, but she'll appreciate the information all the same."

Ellis shook her head. "You two understand each other in a way that even Jo doesn't approach."

Ash shrugged, not responding, and instead turning back to the computer screen. Fi wasn't hard to understand, if you were willing to take her at face value and not push her so hard she started lying.

Furthermore, Ellis willingly blinded herself to the bond the five hunters held, unwilling to forgive John's boys for the mistakes of their father and preferring to deceive herself on exactly who had taught Jo to lock-pick when she was twelve. By association, that denial also required that she underestimate the closeness of Brooks and Phoenix. It helped that the five were rarely in the same state, allowing Ellis the opportunity to put what was out of sight, out of her mind.

Ellis hummed, then changed the subject. "Any new trends on the radar?"

Ash ignored her, watching as overall traffic on the PRT server kicked up another notch. It had been growing for the better part of thirty minutes, but he'd simply assumed it was the result of Friday night crime. Now, noticing how late it was and the rate of the increase, he knew it had to be something else. He abandoned his previous probe to take a better look at the whole system.

Ash leaned forward on the barstool, focusing on the screen and blocking out the physical world. Something had happened in the last half hour, and it had kicked over the hornet's nest. He changed tracks again, this time focusing on outgoing traffic, which was less protected. A few emails was all that was necessary to outline the situation.

"Jazz is headed for Canberra," Ash bit out as he tunneled through the email system up to the inbox of Costa-Brown herself. He read the correspondence she'd sent to Legend, just minutes before. "23 hours and closing. The deadline has moved up twice in the past hour."

"Projection?" Ellis asked, setting aside her work and reaching for the landline.

Ash pulled the limited data into a spreadsheet, and ran a simple linear progression. "5 to 8 hours."

Ellis dialed a number from memory, and Ash tuned her out. He used the Protectorate IP address to send a message straight to Dragon, with the simple message "Let me talk to Contract."

It took nearly four seconds for Dragon to respond, which spoke to how many tasks she was trying to juggle.

 _Dragon: I don't have time to deal with you right now._

 _Ash: Great. Just let me thru to Contract._

 _Dragon: Not going to happen. Contract is currently on an informational lock down._

Ash cringed. That was a sure fire way to piss her off, and an impossibility besides. It was easy to guess why the heroes were trying to keep Fi ignorant, to reduce stress on her while the threat of Jazz loomed large, but it was a wasted effort.

 _Ash: That won't last. You physically can't isolate her. Patch me through._

 _Dragon: It's just until the attack is actually over._

 _Ash: If you know, chances are that she already knows too._

 _Dragon: What do you know that we don't?_

Ash considered what to tell her, and in the end settled for the most important truth.

 _Ash: I know that she might be able to destroy the Simurgh. They changed the schedule. Unless she zoned out back in January, the acceleration should give her leverage against the Simurgh._

 _Dragon: I will see to it that she is informed._

That was better, but not the reason Ash had interrupted her.

 _Ash: And play into the Simurgh's hands? You're a cape! And a Tinker! The Simurgh can see you coming from a mile away._

 _Dragon: And you think she won't see you?_

It was possible, of course. No one had pinned down the exact limit or mechanics of Jazz's song, which threw into question their conclusions about her precognition. Still, the odds were much better for Ash than for Dragon. How to convey that to Dragon in a way that she would accept and believe?

 _Ash: Have any of your thinkers or precogs been able to see Contract? No? I didn't think so._

Ash saw a comm line enter the Brockton Bay server and connect with Armsmaster's helmet software.

 _Dragon: Wait just a moment._

While normally not a particularly patient person, Ash forced himself not to push while she talked to Armsmaster. He did double check that his previous hack was still waiting to be resumed, just in case Dragon rejected his direct approach. It seemed safe, but she might have found it and decided to leave it until it came closer to breaking through.

The call connected immediately, or perhaps Dragon had hacked in rather than wait for Armsmaster to answer.

"Colin," Dragon asked, "how is Fi doing?" Ash purposefully didn't note down Armsmaster's civilian name. He wasn't on a fishing expedition.

"No change, as far as I'm aware. She still doesn't know."

Ash didn't know what to make of that. If she knew Jazz was headed for Australia, she surely would have said something. But how could she not know by now? It had been more than thirty minutes since the prediction algorithm had been run. If the Protectorate knew, and they did, then surely…

Dragon continued the conversation and Ash had to put his thoughts aside. "I've been contacted by a friend of hers who thinks Fi might be able to stop the Simurgh. He said the fact that they deviated from the schedule could be enough to let her smite another one." Interestingly, she didn't drop his name, so she hadn't told Armsmaster about Ash before now.

"How do you know he's a friend?" Armsmaster asked suspiciously.

Dragon sighed. "To be honest, I can't be certain. But I have had interactions with him before. He's been leaving her coded messages on PHO and he helped her with the programming for the Sophia recordings. She speaks of him very fondly, although I haven't told her that I've had interactions with him."

Ash had thought that he'd made a little more progress on Dragon's trust than that, but then again, she'd caught him poking around the CIA two days ago, so maybe he was overestimating things.

"It could be a trap," Armsmaster mused aloud.

"Isn't it worth at least asking her? If the schedule is an opportunity, we should take it." Good, Dragon at least seen his logic, even if she didn't trust him.

"But if he isn't being straight with you, we'll have stressed her out with the news of an attack she can't effect." Ash considered that risk minimal, but Armsmaster sounded determined.

Fortunately, Dragon seemed to know what to say to convince him. "I understand why you want to keep her ignorant as long as possible, but she'll find out eventually. This is just a little sooner, that's all. Is it worth missing this opportunity? You need to inform her about the situation, at least."

Armsmaster grunted, but said, "Let me talk to him."

A moment later, Dragon sent one last message before she closed the chat system.

 _This, right here, is why I don't trust you. Since I don't have time to stop you right now, you might as well talk._

Ash wasted a couple seconds wondering if she was referring to his eavesdropping, or the half-finished hack before he realized the eavesdropping made more sense. Then it was time to convince Armsmaster to let him talk to Fi.

"Armsmaster?" Ash started, figuring it was a safe enough beginning. From the other side of the bar, Ellis glanced up from her conversation, then stretched the landline far enough away that she wouldn't be distracted by his discussion.

"Dragon says you want to talk to Contract. _Convince me._ " Well, that was a more straightforward response than Ash had been expecting. There was really only one way to answer him: honestly.

"You can't keep Contract ignorant of the Simurgh's approach. It simply won't work. And since she has-"

"-why not?" Armsmaster cut in, and Ash mentally revised how he was dealing with the hero. It seems that he would be better served to speak to Armsmaster directly and succinctly, like he'd treat John or James.

"If she hasn't explained the mechanics of her powers, I won't betray her confidence by doing so. But surely you've noticed the effects for yourself?" Ash knew that Contract had a thinker rating. He wasn't sure if it was due to her profiling aptitude or her power, but it meant they at least recognized her as 'not stupid.'

"I can inform her without your help," Armsmaster growled down the line, but Ash thought he heard a bit of respect under the annoyance.

"Your precogs have had trouble predicting Contract, yes?" He didn't wait for Armsmaster to actually reply. "There is good reason to believe that that protection might extend even to the Simurgh. I have a version of that protection myself. You don't. If you want to reduce the effect that the Simurgh can exert on Contract, doesn't it make sense to have her be informed by someone Jazz is less likely to predict accurately?"

"How do you know that Contract is protected from the Simurgh?"

"She's not protected from the scream, just from the precognition. And as to how I know, well, do you really think the Simurgh would allow Contract to exist if she knew she was going to destroy Behemoth?"

Armsmaster was silent, and Ash gave him time to consider the points. Finally, the hero spoke. "Dragon mentioned destroying the Simurgh?"

"It's been years since Contract left a loophole. I'd be extremely surprised if she didn't specify a minimum schedule for the Endbringers, in order to help save more lives. If she did, and that's been broken somehow, she may be able to destroy the Simurgh as a sort of consolation prize. But she can't do that if she doesn't know the schedule has been violated."

Again, Armsmaster was silent for a bit. Was he thinking, or communicating with someone else? Distantly, Ash could hear Ellis's voice pick up in tempo. Whichever hunter she'd gotten ahold of must be unusually stubborn.

"I will go in and assess the room," Armsmaster finally answered. "If I deem it wise, I will connect you to the video conference system."

Ash didn't tell the hero that he'd be able to connect himself as soon as the Bluetooth in Armsmaster's helmet got into range. He'd wait and see if Armsmaster was going to play it straight first. "Very well."

Armsmaster nodded, then turned around and opened the door behind him. Ash took advantage of Dragon's distraction to look out the front camera of Armsmaster's display.

The room contained seven teenagers, three girls and four boys, all in casual dress. It took him a long moment to realize that the blond girl, about sixteen but small for her age, with short-cropped hair was actually Phoenix.

When had she sacrificed her face? What had she gained for it? The legs stretched out on the coffee table were miserably short, her eyes were a grey-blue, and her face looked… soft. At first, it was only the assessing gleam that resembled the girl he loved like a daughter. Once he had her pegged, he realized her posture, her head-tilt, even the way she rested her arm on the back of the couch were all familiar. But it was a jarring moment, connecting the dots. He wasn't a hunter, wasn't accustomed to working in the field where it was critical to recognize mannerisms first and faces afterward.

"Armsmaster?" one of the boys asked. He wasn't the tallest, but he might have been the oldest. Even so, the kid couldn't have been older than seventeen.

"What's wrong?" pressed another before he could answer. This one had gone stiff as soon as Armsmaster entered, while the others were only wary. What had tipped him off? An extra-sensory perception, perhaps? Could this be the Wards team?

Ash put the thought aside immediately, focusing on the discussion instead.

"We've had an alert of a potential S-class event," Armsmaster rumbled, sounding appropriately authoritative and in control. The entire group reacted with surprise, even Fi. Her eyes flickered briefly to the left, and her face closed off. Ash felt his heart ache. She really hadn't known yet.

"The Slaughterhouse Nine?" asked the first boy who had spoken.

"No," countered the tallest girl. "It's an Endbringer." The rest of the group flinched. Ash pegged her as a thinker rather than a precog, and evidently one to recently join the team since there was no record of her.

Fi physically recoiled, muscles tightening in preparation for motion. She pulled her feet off the coffee table and sat forward.

"The Simurgh may hit Australia sometime in the next 24 hours." Armsmaster turned his head more fully toward Fi.

"A certain individual contracted Dragon and insisted you be informed immediately."

Fi didn't hesitate. "Is Ash still on the line? Can I talk to him?" Ash glowed with satisfaction.

Armsmaster paused, and Ash immediately started the hack that would let him access the room's video conferencing equipment, but the hero relented and transferred the call before Ash finished.

"Did you get a schedule guarantee?" he asked, knowing that Fi wouldn't be in the mood for pleasantries until the threat had been assessed and dealt with.

"Sort of. The exact phrase is 'natural attack progression.' So this acceleration was either already in the works, or it's a natural reaction to Behemoth's disappearance. They might be like a hyrda. Cut off one head, two more shall appear."

"Or the creator got pissed," Ash put in. Fi believed that the Endbringers were generated by a non-human source, possibly Scion himself. She argued that they just didn't seem to be driven by human intelligence or motivation, and there was significant evidence that they weren't actually alive. Ash was more inclined to believe in a human creator who hadn't yet perfected his technique or control.

Fi nodded to concede the point.

"Regardless, can you do anything about it?" Ash pressed. Mostly, he wanted her to say it aloud, acknowledge her helplessness now. It wouldn't erase the guilt she'd take on her own shoulders when she heard the final death tolls, but it might mitigate it.

Fi jerked slightly, and shook her head. "No. Not preemptively, at least, and I doubt it will change after the fact. Is the city evacuating?"

"Canberra," Ash supplied, knowing she'd find out eventually. "The Prime Minister just issued the order. Ellis is on the phone now."

Fi shook her head again, looking away in resignation. For a moment, Ash listened as Ellis failed to persuade whomever she'd gotten a hold of and escalated from rapid fire logic into browbeating and shouting. "Charlie, I wouldn't care if you had a _land to air missile!_ You _do not_ risk exposure to Jazz! Period! Grab your totem and journal and get the hell out of there!"

Evidently, the computer mike was good enough to relay the noise. "I take it the Compound isn't listening?" Fi asked, amused.

"Not while there's a bullet between them and a book to be packed," Ash predicted.

"Or a civilian to escort," Fi finished. She sighed, and Ash knew she was wishing that she could snap herself over to the city and help the efforts.

Though he didn't want to worry her, she should probably hear it from him, rather than find out in person: "Christopher swore a blood oath."

She grimaced, but didn't look surprised. "Any idea where he is?"

"Last report said Oregon. But it's not as bad as it could be. He stood up in Council and volunteered his own wording. The exact phrase is 'if given reasonable opportunity.' Most of the younger generation followed suit, if they swore anything at all."

It was a remarkably lax oath, likely only taken to avoid having to swear a more stringent effort. In Christopher's case, it was probably half sentiment and half practicality. Killing Phoenix would be no easy feat, even if one didn't like her.

"Anyone I should worry about?"

"No." Ash didn't elaborate to tell her that the other four had steadfastly refused to take an oath of any kind, even going so far as to challenge a minor councilmember to combat. She knew her pseudo-siblings well enough to not need the reassurance.

There was a moment when he thought they'd keep talking. They'd try to figure out, again, how to kill an Endbringer. They'd reminisce about old times, and take bets on the future.

Instead, her shoulders drooped ever so slightly in sadness. She believed the risk of talking wasn't worth the emotional stability it might give her, and he knew her well enough to know he'd never convince her otherwise.

Quietly, she said, "Thanks for calling," and her gaze conveyed everything else. God, how he missed her.

"Anytime." Likewise, he didn't need to elaborate. She would hear it all. She smiled, but it was a brave front, as brittle as dry pasta. Behind him, he heard the door to the Roadhouse open and close, and Ellis paused in her shouting match with Charlie. He should probably start coordinating the hunters looking to snap over to Aussie and the efforts to evacuate the Compound, but he couldn't resist just another moment with Fi. "Find lots of trouble."

Her smile grew a little stronger, and a little softer. "Be safe."

His heart warmed. Fi had never been able to say "I love you," and it was hardly a wonder why. But he knew what she meant, and made sure to grin back at her. This might be the last time he saw her (even if it was the wrong face) for quite some time.

"Oh cher, you're no fun," he teased. She laughed, a quiet tiny little huff of breath that was genuine, and entirely her own, and therefore precious. Then she froze. In her new features, it took him an extra heartbeat to realize that her expression meant horror.

Ash never heard the gunshot.


	24. Whiplash

**Author's Note:** This chapter hovers on the edge of appropriate language for a T or M story, however, the story rating will be remaining the same.

 **Chapter Twenty-Four: Whiplash**

 **March 19, 2011**

"Do ' _Feeling Good_!'" Missy suggested with genuine enthusiasm.

It took much less cajoling this time, and Fi sang _Feeling Good_ without accompaniment. Her version wasn't quite the song he was used to, but it was more Fi's own style. When she was finished, she glowed, and a glance at the team seemed to indicate that she'd transferred a bit of her own joy to them, just as a good song should.

When she was finished, he clapped with the rest of them. She sat down again, this time leaning back and putting her feet on the table. She looked right at Jason, and gave him a grateful smile. He smiled back, pleased to see her integrating well into the group.

He struggled with his place in the Brockton Bay Ward team, and how Fi's acceptance or distance might influence that place. But the team seemed to be settling together; he had faith that they could become a good unit.

Fi opened the next conversation while the rest of the room was still re-settling. "Enough about me. I've been meaning to ask, and I know we said no work stuff but I've forgotten to ask five or six times now, so Jason, do you know what sort of energy source your previous tinker tech used?"

Jason shrugged. "No. I never did any of the maintenance or upkeep. He tried to explain it to me, but no dice. Why?"

Chris responded, and Fi snagged up a piece of cold pizza, settling back out of the conversation. It didn't surprise Jason. Fi didn't like to be the center of attention, and she'd said a lot about herself already.

"We've been trying to figure out how the same energy source managed a Taser beam and a paralysis effect, but no luck so far. I can do either one on the same chasse, but I can't integrate them. It's been bugging me!"

Taylor perked up immediately. "I haven't heard yet, what's your specialty?"

Chris groaned and Dennis and Dean grimaced in concert. "I don't know," he admitted reluctantly. "Once I figure it out, everything should be a lot easier, but right now I just sort of bounce from project to project trying to figure it all out."

"Well, at least you get a lot of equipment out of it," Taylor offered diplomatically.

"Not exactly," Chris said, but didn't elaborate. Jason glanced at the other guys, waiting for an explanation. He hadn't heard about Chris' problems, although it did seem to be taking a long time for him to build a simple gun.

Dennis finally elaborated. "Chris cannibalizes existing projects for future stuff. Which is great for his timetable when it works, but if the new ideas get stalled or sidetracked, he can end up a bit short changed."

"I've been trying to get complete designs before I start to fix the issue, but…" Chris shrugged, trailing off.

Jason didn't understand the hint, but Taylor did. "Your dyscalculia."

"It's a lot easier to build things than design them."

At that, Taylor's brow furrowed. "Why? If it's a matter of math versus visualization, why can't you just sketch or draw the designs out?"

Chris shrugged again, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. Jason wondered how he could subtly change it, but couldn't come up with anything to say before Chris was answering her. "When I build, it's a lot easier because the project is more constrained. It has to fit the existing power cells, or the articles have to fit on the existing chasse. When it's on paper, there's too many decisions. And yes," he sounded exasperated, "I've tried making a few hard decisions in paper designing and using them as constraints, and no, it doesn't work."

Taylor nodded thoughtfully. Jason felt for Chris, since as a PRT tinker he was required to draft everything before building. Building and then spec-ing was technically illegal, but it sounded like it was the best way for Chris to work.

"What about Gallant's suit?" Taylor mused. "Do you ever use his suit for parts?"

Dean and Chris exchanged looks. "I made him swear not to," Dean said, blushing a little. "I mean, it's his tech but it's my defense, so…"

"But it needs maintenance, right?" she double checked.

"Sure," Chris agreed easily, evidently feeling better talking about his most successful and long-running equipment. "But I just take the parts that are acting up down to the work shop and fix them individually. The whole suit is modular, so it's easy to maintain and upkeep, and it's easy for Dean to get in and out of."

"Modular?" Taylor asked, confused. "Aren't all your things modular?"

Chris looked back at her in equal confusion.

Jason picked up on her train of thought immediately. "She's right, you said you took stuff apart and re-used it. That's what modular means, isn't it?"

Chris was still looking between Taylor and Jason, stunned. Dennis sat forward slowly. "Chris?"

"It's brilliant," he whispered. "Brilliant! Modular systems!" His eyes were a little glazed.

Dennis looked at him for a bit, then pressed, "Kid Win?"

At his other name, Chris seemed to come out of his funk, and a grin slowly grew across his face. "That's my specialty. Modular systems." He was glowing, now.

Jason felt a surge of victory. He shared Chris' grin and then offered him a high five. Taylor held her hand out next, and she got one too. Missy was laughing at them, and Chris started whooping. He grabbed Taylor off the couch and spun her around in a move that wasn't dance so much as just jubilation.

"Does this mean you'll make me my bug carriers?" she teased him, laughing. Chris tripped over his own feet and landed back in his chair, nearly pulling Taylor on top of him. Instead, she overcorrected and had to scramble up from the floor, still giggling.

After another minute of celebration, they had expended what little energy was left. They each somehow found a seat, exhausted by the late hour and the gambit of emotions, but no one was ready to be the first to call it a night.

There was a moment of stillness, then Missy muttered, "You know what, guys? We're pretty awesome."

Taylor laughed breathlessly. "Got that right."

"Damn straight," Jason and Dennis said together. Everyone chuckled a little at that.

The door opened unexpectedly, and Armsmaster walked in, dressed in full battle armor. The way he moved said combat, too.

"Armsmaster?" Clockblocker asked, leaning forward. Everyone sat up, though no one stood.

"What's wrong?" Gallant pressed, and Intrepid knew from his tone that whatever he was seeing in Armsmaster's emotions must be _bad_.

"We've had an alert of a potential S-class event," Armsmaster informed them grimly. Intrepid felt his heart accelerate, and he glanced at Contract, but he couldn't read any emotion on her face. Whatever her reaction was, she had already locked it down.

"The Slaughterhouse Nine?" Clockblocker asked, but he was clearly confused.

"No." Beetle cut in before Armsmaster could answer. "It's an Endbringer." Intrepid knew he wasn't the only one who glanced back at Contract when he heard that.

For her part, Contract physically flinched, jerking back just so slightly, as her body stiffened. Then she sat fully upright and forcefully leaned forward, as though to refuse to allow herself to retreat.

"The Simurgh may hit Australia sometime in the next twenty-four hours," Armsmaster confirmed Beetle's guess. He turned to look at Contract. "A certain individual contacted Dragon and insisted you be informed immediately."

Contract nodded like this, at least, was expected. "Is Ash still on the line? Can I talk to him?" Intrepid couldn't remember much about Ash. Contract had said that he was the real muscle behind the program that had taken down Sophia. She spoke of him fondly, although she never called him a brother. He was, at the very least, an ally. And evidently, the only candidate that might be calling her during a Simurgh attack.

The TV kicked on, and the screen showed a late-twenties or early-thirties man with long, curly hair, who was sitting in a dimly lit bar or restaurant. There was no one else in the frame, but a woman's voice was talking in the background. The door was barely visible over his shoulder.

"Did you get a schedule guarantee?" the man asked, without greeting.

Contract shook her head ever so slightly. "Sort of. The exact phrase is 'natural attack progression.' So this acceleration was either already in the works, or it's a natural reaction to Behemoth's disappearance. They might be like a hyrda. Cut off one head, two more shall appear."

Ash was nodding along, though he tacked on, "or the creator got pissed."

Contract nodded to concede the point. Intrepid realized, then, what they were talking about. It wasn't just that the Simurgh was attacking, though that was horrible. More importantly, she was attacking weeks early, or maybe months early since there were only two Endbringers now. Unless there weren't just two.

But then, what did they mean by a creator?

"Regardless, can you do anything about it?" Ash pressed, and Intrepid jerked his attention back to the conversation. Focus on the whys later, worry about the idiot putting pressure on his teammate now.

Contract winced but shook her head, and though her tone was frustrated, it could have been because of Ash or because of her helplessness itself. "No. Not preemptively, at least, and I doubt it will change after the fact. Is the city evacuating?"

"Canberra," Ash supplied. "The Prime Minister just issued the order. Ellis is on the phone now."

Contract shook her head again, resigned. For a moment, there was a lull in the conversation while the woman's voice was more audible. Intrepid tried to think of something to say, but his brain was still stuck in a gear somewhere between 'it's a freaking Endbringer attack, and there might be new ones' and 'I'm meeting Contract's friend and he's old.'

Contract was evidently paying attention to the woman, because she asked, amused, "I take it the Compound isn't listening?"

"Not while there's a bullet between them and a book to be packed," Ash said cynically.

"Or a civilian to escort," Contract tacked on.

Ash then jerked the subject to a completely new topic once again. "Christopher swore a blood oath."

Contract didn't seem to react to that in any way, but she did follow up with a question. "Any idea where he is?"

"Last report said Oregon. But it's not as bad as it could be. He stood up in Council and volunteered his own wording. The exact phrase is 'if given reasonable opportunity.' Most of the younger generation followed suit, if they swore anything at all." Intrepid wasn't sure what that meant, but from the way Ash said it, he was guessing it wasn't good.

"Anyone I should worry about?" Contract asked, not sounding worried at all.

"No."

She gave him a sad smile and said quietly, "Thanks for calling."

"Anytime." Considering they hadn't seen each other in months, it was surprisingly calm. Contract's smile grew brittle, and Ash added on, "Find lots of trouble."

Her smile grew a little stronger, and she said, "Be safe."

The door to the bar opened, and the person who entered was backlit so that it was hard to see anything except that he was tall. As he walked up to the bar, the woman's voice in the background paused slightly, and Intrepid could see that the man was dressed in jeans and flannel, and carrying something in his left hand.

"Oh cher, you're no fun." Ash said, leaning forward with a teasing smile. The man was clearly visible in the camera now, looking over Ash's shoulder. Contract huffed in very quiet laughter.

The man's face changed. He looked furious. He was barely two feet away from Ash when he raised his left hand, and the sawed off shotgun came into focus. There was a deafening bang, and the video cut out.

"ASHLAND!" Contract screamed, jumping up, and stepping towards the TV as though she could physically reach out and save him.

Intrepid was on his feet too, mostly from the shock of the noise. Gallant said, "Tag" very, very firmly, and Clockblocker lurched past Beetle, reaching for Contract.

Contract froze.

Gallant was breathing heavily as Intrepid turned towards him, towards Clockblocker, ready to take a swing, but Gallant spoke before he had decided which of the two Wards he was going to hit.

"She just lost the closest emotional connection I've ever seen her display. If he wasn't a parent figure, he wasn't far from it."

"How did she react?" Clockblocker asked, while Intrepid processed that Gallant was both monitoring Contract, and had previously worked out an emergency code-word with Clockblocker.

"Hatred. She had a spike of loathing when he first came on screen, but as soon as he started to lift the gun, she had only fear and hatred. Now her aura's nearly all hatred, with a little horror. Oddly, no denial."

"Is this the Simurgh?" Vista asked, "Could this cause Contract to release Behemoth?"

Intrepid glanced at Vista, who was looking straight back at him, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Taylor's face pale dramatically. He wondered distantly if she'd been briefed.

Then he realized the Wards were all looking at him, waiting for him to speak. He was the one who knew Contract the best.

"No," Intrepid answered reflexively. "No. I'm not saying she won't be irrational to some extent, but I don't think there's a chance of her releasing Behemoth. Not really. She's given up too much keeping him down. She won't crumble now. I mean, she might crumble but I don't think she'll let him out."

"Are we sure Ash is dead?" Clockblocker demanded, though Intrepid wasn't sure who he thought could answer the question.

Surprisingly, or perhaps not if Armsmaster had been the one to cut the feed rather than the gunshot destroying the camera, Armsmaster actually had an answer for him. "Yes. He is definitely dead. However, the video has now been cut off at the source."

"So what do we do?" Clockblocker asked. He was looking at Intrepid, now. For an instant, it didn't feel real. He tried to think of any reason the Protectorate might have for screwing with Contract, or any other way that this might have been faked, but he couldn't hold on to the fantasy. It felt for an instant like this shouldn't be his call to make, but he was the best friend she had in Brockton Bay. There was no one else.

Intrepid swallowed and answered, "We support her. Do whatever-"

"-BASTARD!" Contract shouted as she unfroze, finishing her second step towards the TV, and it was more a scream than a word. Intrepid moved closer before Clockblocker decided to buy them more time by freezing her again. The Wards talking wouldn't fix this. Maybe nothing ever could.

He caught her upper arms, twisting her face him and not the still-dark TV screen. She jerked backwards but he held on, heart racing. He could see her eyes, but it was like she couldn't see him. "Bastard," she bit out. " _Fuck._ " She raised her fists and brought them down on his chest just once, hard; hard enough to bruise maybe, but Jason didn't let go.

It took him a moment to realize she was cussing with actual words. It had sounded more like an angry, guttural animal.

"Fi," he said, not sure what he wanted to accomplish but just trying to break her out of the zone she'd fallen into. "Fi."

"Gods curse him!" She choked out, and Jason realized she was crying. Her fists hit his chest again, and Jason grunted, and reflexively squeezed her arms tighter. She tilted her head forward, resting her forehead against his shirt, and whispered, "Goddamned bastard."

He released her arms in order to gather her closer in a hug. It was uncomfortable. Her hands were still curled into fists between them, and there was something hard and long in her jeans pocket. He didn't let go, though.

After a couple seconds, he could hear audible sobs and she started shaking, trying to take heaving breaths. Jason twisted his head just far enough to see Dean, who met his eyes and nodded encouragingly. He had an arm around Chris, who was covering his mouth with his hands, looking sick and shocky. Dennis was grim and stiff, holding it together until the crisis ended. Missy seemed to be headed towards shock, but Taylor had put an arm around her and the two girls were sitting on the couch. For her part, Taylor's face had simply closed off, and Jason couldn't read her.

They must have stood there for an eternity. After a minute, Jason's shirt was soaked with what he hoped was tears. After ten minutes, Dean motioned for Taylor to take Chris and Missy quietly out of the room. They left together, but then Taylor came back, slipping into the room and settling back on the couch, just watching Fi. Sometime after that, Jason's legs locked up and his feet started to fall asleep.

Eventually, Fi ran out of tears. She raised her head, and pulled back from Jason, wiping at her eyes with her sleeves, which weren't all that dry either after being trapped beneath the waterworks. "Damn it," she whispered so quietly that Jason doubted the others had heard. He took a step closer, keeping her focus on him, and reached out to touch her shoulder gently.

"It's okay." As soon as he said it, he regretted it. It was dumb. This was obviously not okay, and he didn't think it was, but the reassurance was a reflexive reaction that completely by-passed his filter.

Fi tried to chuckle, but tears were still sneaking down her face. "Damn it all," she reasserted more strongly. "Damn Ash for thinking we could outsmart the bitch. Damn Lucius Westfall and his thrice-cursed Winchester 22 sawed off." Her voice continued to rise, and Jason could hear the hate in it. "And damn to hell my pride, that I thought it wouldn't matter!" She was almost shouting when she finished.

She turned away, looking out the window of the conference room, or perhaps staring at her own reflection in the dark glass. " _Are you happy, Jazz?_ You got your damned pound of flesh! Best damn hacker in the country! This will destroy my family! Are you _happy_ , Jazz? Are you grinning? Will you crawl back to your hole in the stars? Are you finished yet, you shiny, bird-feathered BITCH?"

Dean motioned, pointing from Jason to Fi, and Jason immediately stepped up behind Fi to distract her, trying not to think about what might happen if he got this wrong. Jason told himself that if he wasn't helping Fi, Dean would have motioned to Dennis instead. So he had to be doing something right.

"Fi?" he asked, reaching out but not touching her again. He did not want to startle Fi, ever.

"Phoenix." She turned back towards him, seeing him but ignoring or not caring about anyone else. "It's Phoenix. Like the city. Someone ought to know."

Jason's heart clenched, because he would much rather have learned her name under any other circumstances. "Phoenix," he repeated back to her, just for something to say.

"Tell me I'm dreaming," she whispered.

"I wish I could."

"Tell me this is some sick trick of Company's."

"I don't think so."

"Tell me Lucius missed."

Jason flinched as he remembered a single moment of red blood spray before the blackness cut it off.

" _Christo._ " It was a curse and a prayer, begging and defiance.

"I'm sorry." It was the wrong thing to say. Her body lost strength, and he had to step forward to help her lower herself to the couch before she collapsed on the floor. Taylor helped maneuver her, sitting on her right, then Jason took the only remaining seat.

Fi curled toward him slightly, her head resting against his shoulder, and she said, "My own damned pride."

Jason didn't know what to say, but Taylor spoke up before the pause had really stretched. "You couldn't have known."

Fi shook her head in reply, and whispered, "Damned call."

Jason squeezed her shoulder, trying to impress on her that she wasn't alone. She started crying again, but before she worked herself up into true sobs she was already asleep, utterly exhausted.

They stayed in that position for a few minutes, listening to her breathing even out as she finally stopped crying all together. Jason looked up at the rest of the room, and was almost surprised to see Armsmaster. He'd forgotten about the hero.

For his part, Armsmaster didn't seem to be paying much attention to the Wards. It was hard to tell, with the visor covering his eyes, but Jason could see his fingers twitching slightly and he guessed that Armsmaster was silently manipulating his internal display, perhaps communicating silently or reading the feedback from one of his tinker-tech gadgets.

"We should get her to bed," Taylor whispered, and Armsmaster's face jerked toward her. Dean and Dennis were already facing the couch, but both seemed surprised when she broke the silence. Taylor looked uncomfortable for a moment, then continued.

"The first night was the only good night of sleep I got after I found out my mom was dead. Every night after that, I had horrible nightmares. But the first night I was tired enough, and it didn't feel real yet, so I could sleep. This might be the last good rest she gets for a long time."

Dennis reached out and squeezed Taylor's shoulder. Jason was startled to realize how close he still was, less than a step away from being within arms' reach of Fi. "I didn't know you'd lost someone. I'm… I'm sorry," Dennis murmured.

"Thanks. But it was two and half years ago now. I'm doing a lot better." Taylor shrugged, embarrassed, then looked over to Jason. "Can you lift her without waking her?"

Jason nodded, and applied his power. Normally, he had trouble lifting anything even half the weight of his own body. His power worked best when applied to himself, a directional weightlessness that let him fly, and carry loads heavier than his muscles could account for; the first power was much more potent than the second. But right now he had adrenaline coursing through his veins, still hyped up from what he had seen as well as the fear that one wrong word could shatter what was left of his friend.

Through his power, and with Taylor's help, he carefully maneuvered Fi into a bridal style carry. Armsmaster opened the door for them, and Jason led a procession of heroes down the hall, and to the elevator that was already waiting. As they got inside, Taylor spoke again, quietly.

"I left Missy and Chris in Chris' lab. She was dealing by trying to distract him, and he was still in shock. They should still be there."

"I've alerted them that we're on our way down and told them to stay there until I give the all clear," Armsmaster said, equally quietly, as the doors closed and the elevator moved without any beeps, chimes, or requests for ID. Armsmaster was definitely talking to someone, or manipulating something, to ensure they got to Fi's bunk as smoothly and quietly as possible.

As Intrepid exited the elevator, he glanced down at Fi's face. She shifted ever so slightly, and he was struck by a sense of déjà vu. This was the position, or close enough, that he'd held her in when he touched down in New York. Far from being peaceful in sleep, her face was tense. He hadn't noticed at the time, but now he knew her well enough to read it.

Jason shook himself free of the thought - metaphorically so as to avoid waking his passenger - and began to slowly walk down the hall way. When they arrived, Taylor opened the door.

The room was bare. The PRT-issued Wards handbook sat on the desk next to the PRT issued computer, and PRT issued bedclothes were tucked with military precision around the corners of the bed. Taylor yanked the blanket and sheets back to make way, and he set Fi down very gently. She shifted, again, and cracked an eye open.

"Hmm?" her eyes drifted shut, even as she voiced a little confusion.

"You're safe," Jason said, not sure if it was the right thing to do. But he'd noticed that Fi had a habit of bidding people to be safe as her way of saying good-bye, and the reassurance sort of slipped out.

"M-hmm," she agreed, shifting a little deeper into the bed. "Hmmmmm."

"You're safe," Jason repeated, and her breathing deepened again. They all waited, tense, but she didn't shift again. Quietly, he and Taylor slipped out of the room as Dean eased the door shut. Armsmaster directed them all to the main conference room, and Missy and Chris were waiting for them when they arrived.

"What do we do now?" Missy asked immediately.

"We help her," Dennis said with authority. "But we need more information. Who was Ash? What was his relationship to Fi? I know that it's an invasion of privacy, but we're flying blind here." He looked at Jason, but didn't actually repeat the question, which was more tact than Jason would have credited him with a few days ago.

Jason answered anyway. "She doesn't really talk about her life before New York. I think she might have mentioned him as a friend who taught her about computers, or helped her with programming. She's mentioned brothers, plural, but I don't know if he was one, or just a friend, or what. The information Dean gave us earlier is probably the best guide there."

Armsmaster volunteered more details. "He has been leaving her coded messages about her family on PHO. Dragon has been aware of this for the past few weeks and has been talking with him. She says that he never gave a lot of straight answers, but she believed that he always had Contract's best interests at heart. Contract has also spoken of Ash to Dragon in glowing terms."

"So she just lost a close friend or possibly someone she views as family?" Chris summarized. "Shit."

"She talked about Jazz," Taylor said slowly. "Do you think she meant the Simurgh?"

"Yes," Armsmaster asserted, but he didn't explain.

"She's feeling a lot of self-hatred and guilt, right now," Dean put in, rubbing his temples. "In fact she's all over the board. She's furious, at the killer and I think at herself too, she has a lot of hate for the killer, she's got guilt and pain… no sadness yet. I don't think it's processed that deeply yet. At one point, there was denial and desperation, which was followed by helplessness that became anger and then guilt. Round and round and round."

"Do we really think the Simurgh targeted her?" Dennis asked Armsmaster directly.

He shook his head. "No. The Simurgh is still headed for Australia, she hasn't changed course or speed. The thinkers and precogs are all working on the upcoming confrontation. We can ask them to look for more details later, but right now everyone who can help Canberra is focused there."

Jason breathed a sigh of relief. There was something truly horrible about dealing with a precog like the Simugh that was hard to imagine, until it was actually sitting on his hindbrain and he was trying desperately to ignore it. Still, Brockton Bay may have dodged the Simurgh but Australia wouldn't.

"That will only make things worse when Fi hears about it." Jason muttered, then realized that this might actually be crucial information. "She doesn't talk much about the other Endbringers, but she did mention to me that she wishes she had waited and taken out the Simurgh instead. She didn't suspect how to beat Behemoth until six months ago, and she wasn't sure until she actually faced him in person. As soon as it was confirmed, she took her shot. But she told me that she wondered if she should have waited. It didn't occur to her at the time."

"Wow," Missy sighed. "That sucks."

"She'll blame herself," Dean confirmed.

"She won't listen if you tell her it's not her fault." Everyone looked over to Taylor. She was still stoic, closed off. Jason wondered if she was barely holding it together or if she was naturally that cool under a crisis.

"The best thing we can do is ask how she's doing, and listen to the answer," Taylor continued. "Make sure she eats. Let her sleep if she can. Listen to stories about Ash, no matter how weird or personal they seem. She's going to have mood swings, and she won't react like you expect her to. But there is no wrong reaction, no wrong emotion. She'll be mad, and depressed, and listless, and shocked and irreverent and happy and loopy and tired, and pissed, and crazy. None of that is wrong."

Most of the Wards were nodding. Dennis nodded slowly, but then issued an order that made Jason's blood run cold. "We don't leave her alone, ever." He took a deep breath to protest, to argue that smothering Fi was the exact opposite of helpful right now.

Then Dennis glanced at Armsmaster, and the Protectorate leader nodded, adding his own caveat. "We don't want to overwhelm her, or add any stress to her situation, but until further noticed Fi is on a suicide watch. She was already dealing with separation from her family and an identity crisis. Questions were asked about her mental stability before. I don't want to give anyone an excuse to look harder or ask more questions than they already have. You are her teammates. Take care of her."

"She probably should see a counselor," Dean offered, looking grim. "We can help, but we're not professionals."

"She's refused them in the past, but I will see what I can do." Judging from Armsmaster's tone, Jason wasn't too hopeful. They'd just have to give it their best effort.

"There's something else to think about. She knew the killer. And the killer knew her," Taylor reminded them. "He recognized her, and he didn't shoot Ash until _after_ he recognized her. She's talked about having enemies before. He might try to hunt her down."

"I will talk to Dragon when the Simurgh attack is over and investigate Ash's death. But until then, you will all just have to keep alert."

"Another reason not to leave her alone." Dennis rubbed his temples. "Armsmaster, I request permission to put the entire Ward's team on non-active duty with regards to patrols and the like for the next 48 hours. We'll re-evaluate after that."

"Agreed. Your sole duty for the next two days is Contract."

"Phoenix." Jason heard himself say. "We need to remember to call her Fi or Phoenix, since she decided to share it with us. She doesn't really identify with 'Contract' very well."

The team nodded in agreement, and looked at each other, then Dennis sighed and issued assignments. "Okay, everyone go to your quarters and get some rest. Missy, go sit with Fi in case she wakes up. Chris, sleep for an hour then relieve her. I doubt she'll wake up tonight anyway. I'll tag in at 7 AM so you can sleep. Taylor, you take over from me at 10 AM. Hopefully, she'll be tired enough to sleep until much later than that, and Dean and Jason will be rested when she wakes up. For now, you two are probably the best equipped to deal with Fi."

"What about the Simurgh? She's going to want updates at some point. It's not the sort of thing she'll forget. What do we tell her?" Jason asked, wanting to clarify the point for all involved.

Dennis grimaced, but Jason knew this was important. "We tell her the truth. But only if she asks." It was what Jason planned to do anyway, even if it had been forbidden, but he wanted it said for the entire team.

"Good," Jason asserted. "If someone lied to Fi at this point, she would probably deck them. Or start crying again. Certainly, it would destroy any chance of trust." He paused, for a moment he wanted to chew Dennis out for freezing her earlier. But the chances of changing his mind now, less than an hour after he made the judgment call, was slim. He would wait, and not leave Fi alone with Dennis in the meantime.

"So now we wait?" Taylor asked.

"We wait." Dennis stood up and the others followed suit, drifting toward their quarters.

Jason was afraid what might be waiting for him in his sleep, but if he dreamed at all, he didn't remember it when he woke.


	25. The Question of Faith

**Chapter Twenty-Five: The Question of Faith**

 **March 19, 2011**

When Jason woke up the next morning, he first thought was, _why did I sleep in my bunk?_ His second thought was _shit_. There was no moment of denial, which he found odd once he realized it. He knew, implicitly, that he had seen a man shot late the previous night - or rather earlier that morning - and he knew that Fi had crumbled in the wake of that gunfire.

After that, there was really no going back to sleep, even though it was barely after eight. So Jason got up, put on a set of the civilian clothes he kept in the Wards' base, and wandered out to the conference room.

Triumph was sitting in the seat nearest the elevator.

Jason walked over cautiously, surprised to see the other teen in uniform. "What's wrong? Didn't you have patrol?"

"No. I've been assigned to help guard Contract."

Jason glanced toward where the door to her bunk was, but decided there were more important lines of inquiry to pursue. "What's the situation with the Simurgh?"

"She attacked just after six am. They drove her off in just over twenty two minutes, and they engaged her so high and so early that she barely got within range Canberra. The Australian government is refusing to quarantine the city, because the police force on the ground claims they didn't hear the scream. It's a mess."

"What's the death count?" Jason asked cautiously. No quarantine was less than ideal, but Triumph looked like he'd been to hell and back.

"Forty-one capes. A couple hundred people died in stampedes trying to evacuate as the deadline kept moving closer, and a couple hundred more from collateral damage during the attack."

That was really very light for an Endbringer attack. And it didn't explain Triumph's tension. "That's not terrible. Why do you look so worried?"

"The mainstream media is eviscerating Fi. For not being there, for not stopping the Simurgh, for accelerating the schedule by destroying Behemoth and pissing off the other two… It's bad. The local talk show leaked the interview from last night, which bought her a lot of sympathy because evidently Behemoth killed her parents, but it's only bought us time.

"The general public has reacted in the opposite extreme. A lot of people, individual people, are bombarding the media outlets in her defense and crashing servers by pure overload, but even so, Glenn thinks this is going to be ugly. The entire PRT presence is Brockton Bay has been put on media blackout, and most of PHO is locked after it crashed too."

Jason swallowed, but there was nothing he could do about that right now. "Armsmaster around?"

"He's upstairs, with Piggot and the Triumvirate." Jason felt his eyebrows jump involuntarily, and Triumph elaborated, "They showed up here as soon as the Simurgh was in retreat. Remember when Contract explained her powers?"

Jason shrugged. Triumph waved his hand, dismissing the question. "Well, Alexandria remembers it word-for-word, of course. Contract admitted there was another way to end an Endbringer, but said that it was evil. After seeing the schedule accelerate, they want more details. Armsmaster is trying to convince them to stand down, at least for now."

"He's standing up to the Triumvirate?"

"I assume so, since they're up there and not down here," Triumph observed dryly.

"Wow." Jason glanced towards Fi's door again. "I'm gonna go check on Dennis, since I'm up." Triumph nodded, but Jason was already turning away.

The walk over to her room felt much longer than the ten steps it took to get there. On one hand was the gut-deep feeling that he shouldn't, the Wards shouldn't, be the one to keep vigil over her sleep. They barely knew her, had only met her four or five weeks ago, and yet they were the closest thing she had to family right now.

Competing with this was a defensiveness, almost possessiveness, at the thought that the Triumvirate were in the building, somewhere, and they wanted to exploit his friend. The Wards might be all she had, but Jason for one wasn't about to let the big-shot heroes pile more guilt and more weight on her already breaking back.

The door was cracked when he rounded the corner, so he eased it open and tapped ever so lightly on the frame to get Dennis' attention. The new team leader stood up from the desk chair, where he'd been watching Fi sleep, and came to stand closer to Jason so they could whisper more effectively.

"You're supposed to be asleep."

"Couldn't. You good here?"

"Yeah. You hear about the Simurgh?"

"Triumph told me. You know about the Triumvirate?"

Dennis nodded.

"You two know that women are biologically wired to wake up when they hear higher registers?" Fi asked, amused. Dennis jerked around, and Jason took a reflexive step into the room. Fi was still lying down, eyes closed, but she was smiling slightly. As he watched, the smile faded and her eyes opened.

She met Jason's eyes unnervingly quick, and she must have either just remembered or read something in his face, because her face drained of color. "I didn't imagine it?"

Jason shook his head, mute. She nodded, eyes closed again, and then she suddenly rolled out of bed and pushed past Jason, racing out of the room and down the hall. She plunged through the door to the girl's showers, and Jason could hear her retching by the time he'd taken his first steps to follow her.

Jason and Dennis reached the bathroom door at the same time, then hesitated in unison as cultural conditioning warred with concern for Fi. Then Jason squared his shoulders and pushed his way in. Fi was standing over a sink, shaking and coughing, while water ran over a mess in the sink to her left.

He grabbed a wad of paper towel to throw over the mess to keep the stench down, then wet a second wad to place on the back of her neck. "It's okay," he said, and she nodded but kept coughing and mini-heaving, fingers white where they gripped the sink basin. "It's okay to be sick." He placed a hand on her back to let her know he was there. She relaxed slightly, whether because of the human contact or some other reason he didn't know.

"How long was I asleep?" she finally asked, still leaning over the sink and trembling heavily.

"Couple hours. I think it was one or two o'clock when we went to bed, and it's just after eight now."

"The Simurgh?"

"It's over."

"Shit."

"It could have been a lot worse. The warning helped."

"No it didn't. I don't know what her target was, but I guarantee she got what she wanted. She's a precog; hell, she's _the_ precog. She knew about the warnings. Whatever she was after, she got it." Jason started to disagree with her, but as he opened his mouth, he really looked at her.

If anything, Fi's shaking was getting worse, not better. She coughed again, and her head hung down between her arms. Dennis opened the door and poked his head in with a cup of water and a bottle of apple juice. Jason nodded to signal him in, then realized his mouth was still waiting for his brain to put the counter-argument in a coherent order.

She continued her line of thought before Jason could figure out what to say. "That was our mistake. We thought we could outsmart her, we thought we had figured out a way to be immune. There's no safety, not from her."

"You think the Simurgh set you up?" Dennis asked, wary. Fi jerked and looked over, surprised to see him so close. She stared for a long moment, her body tense and leaning away from him, before she finally seemed to recognize him as her teammate.

She took the water, swished it in the mouth, and spit in the sink. Then she reached over and turned off the first sink. From where Jason was standing, all he could see was a mass of soggy paper towels. Fi turned more fully toward Dennis, leaning one hip against the closer sink. Jason caught the damp towels that had been on her neck before they fell, then put his hand back on the small of her back. Again, it relaxed her, a little, but he could feel that it didn't relieve all the tension in her body.

"There are people from my past who actively want to kill me, and are willing to kill anyone helping me. And there are a handful of people who know me well enough to recognize my mannerisms in just a few seconds, no matter what I look like. Lucius fell into both categories.

"For him to walk in on Ash and I in a video conference, when Ellis was distracted, is a one in a million chance. I've refused to have contact with my family for this very reason. The whole conversation lasted only a few minutes. It was a small window of opportunity.

"Is there a reasonable explanation? Of course. Dozens of people want me dead. And a couple dozen people wanted Ash dead in his own right, though they'd never admit it. On top of that, Lucius had every reason to go to the Roadhouse after hearing that the Simurgh was active. The events make logical sense, but considering the timing? It's _suspicious_.

"So yes, I have to assume it was the Simurgh. She may have had other purposes too; in fact I'm sure she did, because she is the _premier_ precog, but I think this was her. I took out an Endbringer. And she took out the only adult I respect. Ash wasn't a parent, but he was the closest thing I had." Fi crossed her arms in front of her chest, rubbing her hands against her skin, and Jason suddenly realized it was chilly in the bathroom. He was in sweats and flannel, but she was still in her short-sleeved shirt from last night.

"Are you going to throw up again in the next ten minutes?" Jason asked, before Dennis could pursue the question of the Simurgh's influence. If it was creeping him out, it couldn't be helping Fi. Dennis probably knew that, but Jason didn't want to risk her mental health on a probably. Fi shook her head.

"Okay. Then you go use our shower, soak up some hot water, and we'll get this place cleaned up. Sound good?"

Fi nodded, and walked slowly down the hall to grab her toiletry kit. Dennis stepped closer to Jason, blocking him from leaving, and hissed, "We can't leave her alone."

"She's not suicidal." Fi had been upset, and scathing, and depressed, and logical, and probably in shock, but she wasn't going to harm herself. Dennis glared. "I'll stand in the doorway and listen, but she's shaking like a leaf. Showers calm her down."

"Fine. I'll clean up here." Dennis grimaced as he said it, but Jason was selfishly glad he'd volunteered. The room was starting to reek.

Jason slipped out of the bathroom just as Fi left her dorm room, clothes and kit in hand. There was really no good way to approach the subject, so Jason took a deep breath and went with bald honesty. "So, listen, technically you're on suicide watch. Mind if I stand in the doorway and listen awkwardly like a creeper?"

Shockingly, that actually got a tiny smile out of her. "I get it. I've done the favor for other friends a couple times. You want me to keep up a running commentary of some sort so you know I'm okay, right? I can do that."

It was a much more casual response than he had anticipated, but Jason wasn't going to question this one bit of good luck. "Thanks." He held the door for her, and she slipped inside and into the first stall, pulling the curtain behind her.

Immediately, she started talking as promised. "I wish Ash could have seen that movie last night. It's exactly the sort of thing he'd love. He got me hooked on all that old horror, monster-in-the-dark stuff when I was eight. Scared the pants off Ellis when she caught me showing it to Jo. Man, did we get a hiding.

"He never showed me that one in particular, but he probably knew about it. He knew all sorts of obscure titles, the worse the special effects the better. The boys told me once that Ash actually in one when he was in college, but they could never find a copy of it. Ash denied it completely."

The sound of the water changed, and Jason assumed it was warm enough for her to step into the main stream. She sighed, actually sounding relaxed, and he knew he'd made the right call. From where he was standing, he could just see the edge of the water pool under the curtain, but nothing else. If she did decide to take some sort of drastic action, he'd be able to see the blood in the flow of the water.

"This watch is useless, by the way. For one, it's not necessary. And even if it was, well… If I wanted to be dead, I would be. You know how easy that trade would be? No one could stop me.

"Not that I want to die. I've got a bullet to put in Lucius. And Jazz too. That bitch will go down if it is the last damned thing I do." Her voice, which has been rising in anger, broke on that last phrase. She was quiet for a moment, while Jason carefully monitored his breathing.

He hadn't considered how her power might affect her ability to kill herself, and he tried to convince himself that her ability to talk about it so flippantly was good. It wasn't working.

"Not that Lucius will need my bullet," she continued, and Jason jumped. He hadn't expected her to keep talking without prompting. "If Ellis is half the woman I've known her to be, Lucius is already dead. No way she'd let him take a second shot, she's not that old yet. I never thought I'd see the day when I wanted to kill a man. But for Lucius, I could make an exception."

"The snake has wanted Ash dead for years, he just never had enough of a reason to take the shot himself until last night, I guess. God knows _why_ he hates him so much: it's not like Ash didn't save him as often as the rest of us. But Lucius hated him on first sight, and the feeling's mutual now. Or maybe I should say it was."

The water shut off, but she kept talking. "Maybe it's better that way. I can focus on the bitch."

Jason cleared his throat. "You think you can kill the Simurgh?"

"Come hell or high water. I just can't figure out how she got around the contract. It's solid. I can feel it, sitting on my shoulders, wrapped around my chest. And it clearly stipulates that the remaining Endbringers have to adhere to their natural attack progression. Natural attack progression. I don't see a loophole in that.

"I mean, I know I rattled off options with Ash, but the more I think about them, the more none of them apply. The whole point of the clause was to restrain the attack schedule. Even if there are suddenly more Endbringers, which is itself hard to believe, they should still have to obey the clause. And even if _they_ don't, the Simurgh _does_. I just can't figure it out."

She stepped out of the cubical, dressed in jeans and a white shirt. It wasn't quite her cape uniform, but it was close. He chose not to say anything, but he wondered if the choice had been purposeful or accidental. She walked over to the sinks, combed out her hair, then ran a hand through it to muss it slightly into its normal pixie-cut style.

"You've only been thinking about it for a couple minutes," he pointed out, neutrally, following her back to her room. She dumped her stuff on the bed, where it looked starkly out of place with the military precision of the rest of the room.

"It doesn't make sense," she repeated. Jason shrugged. She stepped toward the desk, put a hand out toward her laptop, then snatched it back. He could see her face tighten up as she held herself together, and prepared himself for the next swing. He'd made it through one cycle of puking-sobbing-being surprisingly okay. He could do it again.

But the break down didn't come. After staring at the desk, and the laptop on it, blankly for several long seconds, Fi glanced up.

"I think I want to go out."

"Go where?" Dennis asked, as he came to stand just behind Jason. Jason, for his part, carefully didn't jump. There was no reason to be nervous around his team leader. None at all.

"There's a church just up the street. St. Paul's. Ash was Catholic," she answered, looking at Jason and not at Dennis. "I wouldn't mind if you came." She flicked her eyes to Dennis ever so briefly, barely including him, but including him all the same.

"Sounds like a plan," Dennis said.

Fi tried to offer a smile, but it faded fast. Jason reached out and squeezed her shoulder as she came closer, and that bought him a genuinely thankful glance.

* * *

Getting out of the base, and down the street, was easier said than done. The hardest part was convincing Triumph that there was no need to alert the Triumvirate without expressly saying 'Triumvirate' and cluing Fi into the fact that they were there for her.

On one hand, Jason didn't really want to keep secrets from Fi. On the other, he wanted to let her grieve in peace for as long as she could. And Fi had kept enough secrets from him, for his own good, that he felt justified doing to the same for her. He'd make sure to warn her before they went back into the base.

The church was a squat little brick building that looked like it ought to be an office complex until they were actually inside. It was also much busier than Jason would have guessed on a Saturday morning, until he realized a lot of people were there praying for the Simurgh's victims.

They came in behind a couple who dabbed their foreheads with wet fingers and knelt at the threshold. Fi did neither, instead slipping along the back of the church to sit in the far right of the second-to-last row. People were murmuring, and occasionally someone went up to the front where a bunch of candles had been lit, but the place still had the feel of a library or museum.

Fi sat on the pew, put her elbows on the pew in front of her, and rested her chin on her closed fists. And then she just sat there. Cautiously, Dennis and Jason sat on either side of her, and mostly just looked around the church.

There were wooden relief carvings all around the room, even in the back, which didn't seem practical. In the front, was a larger-than-life cross with a shockingly detailed and bloody depiction of Jesus, framed on either side by life-portioned representations of his parents. Did Joseph count as a father of Jesus? Jason had never been clear. Or maybe the man up there wasn't supposed to be Joseph?

They'd been sitting in silence for maybe ten minutes when they were approached by a bishop. Or he was called a priest? Pastor?

"Hello, I'm Father John," the man introduced himself.

"Elizabeth," Fi offered mildly. She waited until after she'd spoken to look away from the front of the room and make eye contact with the man in black, who was now seated sideways in the bench in front of them. Jason barely remembered that this was the name the PRT had assigned to her over a month ago.

"Hello Elizabeth." He glanced at Jason and Dennis, but somehow understood that they didn't have anything to say. Instead, he refocused on Fi alone. "Can I help you?"

"I doubt it," Fi deadpanned, looking past him toward the front again, "I didn't come here to talk to you."

To his credit, Father John took that in stride. "Perhaps not. But the Father does speak through his children."

Fi laughed her bitter, brittle laugh. "In my experience, he speaks _to_ his children."

"Then you didn't need to come here to hear from him."

Fi turned back to the father, surprised. Her gaze flickered once to the front, but immediately returned to Father John. Jason wasn't sure why, but the priest now had her attention now. Finally she conceded, "There is that."

Father John smiled without the slightest trace of victory, and gently asked, "What troubles you?"

Fi opened her mouth, took a breath like she was about to speak, and then shut her mouth so sharply her teeth clicked together. She closed her eyes, bowing her head slightly, and took several sharp breathes through her nose, trying not to cry. After three or four of these, she choked out, "Ashland Texas is dead."

She bowed her head further, and Jason put a hand on her shoulder. " _God_ ," she said, and Jason was pretty sure it was a prayer, not a curse, "Ash is _dead_."

The father, to his credit, didn't seem fazed, though he did reach out and put a hand on hers, which were still clasped together in front of her. They sat that way for long enough that Jason started to wonder if he should say something, but he couldn't decide what. When Fi looked up, Jason could still feel the tension in her body.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Father John murmured. "May I pray for him with you?"

Fi scoffed. "I don't believe in intercession for the dead." This evidently surprised Father John, and after a moment Fi continued more mildly. "Ash was a staunch Catholic. He knew what he believed and why, and he introduced me to God in a church very much like this one.

"I walked away from the Catholic Church when I was twelve; I had questions that my priests couldn't answer. I've been a Baptist since I was fourteen. I know what I believe and why I believe it's true. I _don't_ believe in intercession for the dead, but Ash did." Jason hadn't realized that Fi was Christian, and wondered if that said more about him or about her.

She huffed in what might have been an attempt at laughter. "We argued about religion a lot. The fact that you're upholding his position for him from beyond the grave… well… that would tickle Ash's funny bone but good. He's probably up there laughing right now."

Father John continued in his same mild tone, "How long has it been since you were in church?"

"Fifty-one days. But it feels like a lifetime." By Jason's quick mental math, that was just under two months, so right around the time she'd killed Behemoth, give or take a couple days.

Father John didn't seem to know exactly how to react to that. Did he think she was lying? Was he thrown by the very specific number of days? The length of time? Finally he offered, "If you didn't come for intercession, why _are_ you here?"

Fi looked away from him, past Dennis on her other side, twisting her body enough that Jason let his hand drop off her back. He tried to follow her gaze - there were wooden reliefs hanging near the ceilings, some windows, and a bulletin board - but he couldn't tell what she was looking at. Her forehead wrinkled. "What's that banner for?"

The bulletin board was topped with a large header that simply said "UNCOVERED."

Father John allowed the subject change graciously. "Our youth are currently on a retreat, studying the Gospel of Matthew, Chapter 10, verses 26 through 28. Jesus encouraged his disciples to preach boldly for the protection of their souls."

Fi looked back to Father John, and said in a clear, steady tone, " _So have no fear of them, for nothing is covered that will not be revealed, or hidden that will not be known. What I tell you in the dark, say in the light, and what you hear whispered, proclaim on the housetops. And do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell._ "

Father John looked dumbstruck, and Jason realized that Fi had quoted the passage in question off the top of her head. It wasn't one he'd heard before, much less recognized. For a little while, they all sat in silence, as Fi studied her knuckles and the rest of them waited for someone else to speak.

Finally, Fi looked back up and continued, her mouth twisted in a wry smile. "I've heard it summarized as, 'what Man covers, God will uncover in his justice. But what Man chooses to uncover, God will cover by his grace.' I owe you an apology, Father. I _did_ need a little help to hear God today. I guess I've become a little hard-headed recently. Thank you."

Father John recovered, and when he spoke, his voice was just as steady and mild as it had been when he sat down. "You're welcome. I will pray for Ash."

Jason half expected her to return to her mild-toned passive-aggressiveness, but Fi nodded instead. "That would have meant a lot to him." She glanced toward the front, perhaps toward the crucifix. "Pray for me, too. I've got some things that need to be uncovered."

"A confession?" Father John asked, but from the wry tone it was clear he didn't expect to be taken up on his offer.

"Not sins, Father. Secrets." Jason felt a chill run down his spine. Did she mean that she was finally going to give them some answers? Because of a banner in a church?

Before he could consider it further, Fi extended her hand toward Father John. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, child." He shook her hand, then glanced at Jason and at Dennis, and somehow read that neither of them had anything to add. Father John stood up, and walked over to two women who were sitting several rows ahead of them.

When Jason glanced back at Fi, she was trembling again. Carefully, he put a hand on her shoulder and she didn't flinch. "You okay?"

"I will be," she whispered, and looked away from the crucifix to meet his eyes. "I really needed this. Thank you."

Jason nodded, sensing that something had changed but not quite able to put his finger on exactly what it might be. Was she a little more peaceful? A little stronger? Regardless, Fi didn't seem ready to leave yet, so he fished for something to say and came up with the utterly obvious: "You're a Christian."

"I am. Ash took me to mass off and on until I was twelve. At that point I started asking questions, and I got patronizing answers. So I went looking for better ones. I talked to Lutherans, Methodists, Pentecostals, and finally at fourteen I ended up as a Baptist. I'm not arrogant enough to swear I know every answer, but I am satisfied with what I've found."

Jason's family had never been religious, and he didn't particularly care about religion in any real way, but he'd lived in Texas. He'd been handed tracks and yelled at from street corners. He'd seen people who set their clocks by Sunday morning mass, followed by Sunday afternoon football.

Fi didn't fit that mold. He wasn't even sure how to address the father (or priest, or pastor, or bishop) but she could probably tell him the meaning and story of every scene carved, painted, and displayed in the building. And despite that, she was surprisingly… normal.

On her other side, Dennis shifted. "We need to get back to base before we're missed. We can get clearance to come back, but we've already been out here for close to forty minutes."

"It's okay. I got what I needed." Fi stood up and led them out of the church, calm and steady.

The entire time, Jason had half expected her to start yelling at God for taking Ash away. Anger was a stage of grief, wasn't it? But she seemed mostly composed, and not at all in danger of flying off the handle. It was probably a good sign that it was time to tell her about the powder keg waiting for her back at base.

As they walked up the street, Jason fished for the right words, before finally deciding to just take the plunge. It had worked last time. "The Triumvirate are in Brockton Bay, trying to talk to you."

Fi grimaced, but didn't speak. She just kept walking, hands shoved in her pockets, head tilted down. Jason glanced at Dennis; he didn't look pleased, but he stepped up to carry on the conversation anyway. "Armsmaster is talking to them, holding them off."

Fi kicked a bit of litter in the pathway and it zinged off down the street. "Let them come. I'll tell them to shove off myself."

Jason swallowed, but elaborated. "Alexandria wants details about the potential solution you hinted at a couple weeks ago."

"Damned eidetic memory," Fi muttered. Jason wondered if Christians were allowed to damn things. Fi seemed to be doing it a lot in the last twenty-four hours. "I don't suppose she remembered the part where I said it was evil. Beyond evil."

Dennis glanced at Jason with raised eyebrows. So whatever report or file he had on Fi as the new team leader didn't include a transcript of that debriefing. Or maybe he didn't officially have access yet.

Jason shrugged at Dennis, and replied to Fi instead. "I think they want to know what their options are."

Fi scoffed and kicked another piece of trash. This one spun off to the side and impacted one of the building fronts they were walking past. "It'd be nice if someone trusted my judgment occasionally."

"We do," Dennis said, and Fi actually looked up at him. "We, your team, I mean, we just want to help. The Triumvirate may not know you but we do. And just because we're curious or ask questions doesn't mean we don't trust you. It means we don't want you to be alone."

"Maybe we can offer a fresh perspective." Jason put in. Fi looked back at him. "If you don't want to talk to the adults, that's one thing. But talk to _someone_." Fi stared at him for a long time, actually stopping on the sidewalk to study him.

"Okay," she finally answered.

"Okay?" Dennis asked, shocked.

Fi didn't break eye contact, and Jason met her gaze steadily as she repeated, "Okay."


	26. Law 101

**Chapter Twenty-Six: Law 101: Cheating, Blackmail, and Fine Print Details**

 **March 19, 2011**

Stepping back into the PRT headquarters was anti-climactic. Jason had been half-expecting the Triumvirate to be standing in the lobby, waiting for them in the classic v-formation from photo-shoots. As soon as he recognized the thought, he knew it was ridiculous, but it still felt odd to walk across the deserted room, into the tinker-tech elevator, and swipe his ID like it was any other day.

They took the elevator down to the Wards' base, where the rest of the team was waiting for them, suited up. Jason guessed that either Dennis had sent a message, or Triumph had warned them before he'd left, that the Triumvirate were in the building and the team wanted to be ready in case the heroes made an appearance.

Taylor, dressed in the completed Beetle armor for the first time, walked directly to Fi and gave her a hug. It didn't look comfortable, with all the plates and armor panels, but Fi just hugged her back.

When Taylor pulled back a long moment later, Missy was there next. "How are you doing?" she asked quietly. Fi shrugged, and this time she was the one to pull away from the hug.

"Coping, for now. I'll probably break down again soon, but for now… I don't know."

Taylor smiled, and reached out to squeeze her shoulder. "We're all here for you."

"Good." Fi nodded decisively. "I want your help."

"With what?" Chris asked.

Fi met his gaze steadily. "I'm going to figure out how to kill the Simurgh. To do that, I need information that only the Triumvirate has. And to get that information, I will likely need to blackmail them. I could use witnesses."

That was… not exactly what Jason had been expecting. But, at the same time, he'd much rather be in the room, helping Fi blackmail the most powerful parahumans on the planet than finding out after she was smeared across the street. "We'll go suit up," he offered, taking a step toward the dorms, not wanting Dennis and himself to be the only ones unprepared for the impending confrontation.

"Wait," Dennis cut in. Jason twisted to look at him in surprise. "This is the Triumvirate you're talking about. They're heroes." Dennis said it slowly, like he thought maybe Fi and Jason had forgotten that detail. He glanced between them cautiously.

Fi outright snorted at the protest. It wasn't her usual quiet huff through the nose that discretely indicated suppressed laughter or incredulity. It was a sound of outright scorn. "Sure. Right. If they were such heroes, there wouldn't be blackmail for me to use."

"Won't they want to help destroy the Simurgh?" Missy asked.

Before Fi could answer, Taylor put her two cents in. "Alexandria is one of the original heroes."

"If only you knew," Fi shot back. "Hero is not a sticker that makes someone suddenly bright and shiny. They're human. They make human mistakes. Only because they're a hero, a human mistake can mean hundreds of thousands of people die."

Fi took a deep breath, and turned deliberately more towards Missy. "They do want the Simurgh destroyed. And I intend to start by asking nicely. But the answers I want… might be a little incriminating themselves. The Triumvirate may not want to answer. They especially won't want to answer with a lot of witnesses."

Fi glanced at the whole team. "But I need you guys there. For emotional support. For restraint. I need you to tell me if I go too far. I can't trust their judgment, and my own is… affected."

The teenagers exchanged glances, and Jason stepped up next to Fi to offer his insight. "Guys… I know this is a bit of a shock. It's not what I thought I'd be doing when I woke up today. But…" he glanced at Fi. They'd never discussed this next part, but it seemed like an appropriate time to bring it up.

He took a deep breath.

"After Fi erased Behemoth, she was bleeding, so I took her to the medical center where Panacea was waiting for us. And so was every hero the Triumvirate could lay their hands on. Not just the three of them, but every mobile Protectorate member who can pack a punch, including my old boss Ranger and Armsmaster. They weren't just waiting for news, either."

Jason swallowed, carefully making eye contact with various team members as he continued. "I used to live not that far from Houston. I wouldn't say that I've seen a lot of Eidolon, because he was pretty busy and the Wards technically reported to Ranger, but I've seen more of him than most. Eidolon wasn't just waiting around. He was on guard. The Triumvirate, the heroes...they were tense. Prepared. While Fi was unconscious, they used all the Thinker power available to them to try to figure out who she was. She was lying there, helpless, and the general atmosphere was one of _readiness_."

Taylor and Chris seemed unconvinced, though the others were more believing. Fi wasn't reacting at all, which he decided was a good enough sign that it was okay to keep going. "When she did wake up, there was a very short conversation before she surrendered to Alexandria. And it _was_ a surrender. She made it clear that the only reason she wasn't trying to leave was because she didn't want to fight her way out. No one corrected her, or told her she was free to go, or that they wouldn't stop her. The Endbringer truce should have still been in effect, but instead Alexandria herself grabbed Fi by the arm and lead her away."

Silence greeted his confession while the Wards shared looks. It was Dennis who finally spoke, proving again that he was the right one to be their leader. "Okay. I'm not saying I'm eager to face off against the Triumvirate, but this is a serious issue. If they know something that could stop the Simurgh, then maybe a little pressure is warranted. You're not going to use their secret identities?"

"No. If it comes to that, the material itself is morally repugnant or illegal, or both. It's not just a secret, it's bad juju," Fi assured him, and Jason reflected on the bizarre nature of a world where the promise that heroes did evil was a reassurance.

Chris, now looking more convinced, added, "Promise me, you'll ask nicely first."

"I will," Fi answered immediately. "I don't intend to lead with the heavy guns. But I don't expect this to be easy." She looked away from Chris and met Taylor's eyes steadily. "I'd like to skin this particular cat on the first try. So we'll start small, and escalate as necessary. I want the Simurgh dead, _today_."

Without being able to pin-point exactly why, Jason was reminded of her multi-step plan to deal with Sophia. She'd started out simple, just a dropped comment in the base which had escalated into a confrontation. When that hadn't worked, she'd illegally hacked into Sophia's phone. Whether she'd purposefully escalated by involving Dragon or whether the tinker had involved herself, it was yet another level of response to what was, in essence, bullying.

How far would she escalate to destroy an Endbringer?

On the other hand, destroying the Simurgh would save hundreds of thousands, if not millions of lives. What was a little blackmail next to that?

Taylor seemed to be on Jason's wavelength, though probably for her own reasons. "We're with you, Fi. Promise." The rest of the team nodded their agreement, or at least didn't protest.

Dennis nodded slowly, and followed Jason towards the dorms to get into uniform. Before Jason could turn into his own room, Dennis grabbed his arm and whispered, "Is she trying to get herself killed?"

The thought hadn't actually occurred to Jason, but he gave it due consideration before answering. She did seem to be emotionally unstable, swinging from one state to the next, but was she suicidal? No. Her tone since they'd left the church had displayed none of the chilling stoicism that had scared him earlier in the day. She might be _willing_ to die if it meant taking out the Simurgh, but he didn't think she was _looking_ for death.

Jason shook his head firmly, to make up for his hesitation. "No." Remembering her earlier words he tacked on, "There would be easier ways for her to do it if she was."

Dennis seemed to accept that, because he let Jason go and continued towards his own room.

Pulling on the suit felt a little different this time. Jason had never put it on while knowing there was a good chance he'd be facing down heroes. He trusted Fi, trusted her judgment, and if she said blackmail would be necessary, he believed it. It was just a lot to wrap his head around.

Before he was ready mentally, he was dressed and back in the main conference room, where he found the rest of the team, minus Clockblocker, sitting around the table. Gallant was standing between two white boards which had been dragged over from their usual corner. Beetle and Contract were sitting directly across from the boards, Beetle looking smug while Contract seemed a little wary.

Contract was talking as Intrepid and Clockblocker came around the corner. "Clockblocker pointed out to me that you're my team now. And Intrepid made a very good point about new perspectives. So before we go wave a red flag in front of the Triumvirate, I am going to fill you in on what I already know, and we'll try to solve the issue ourselves, starting from the ground up. Fresh eyes, and all that."

"I thought you'd spent years working on this?" Kid Win asked, as Intrepid chose the seat closest to the whiteboards, across from Contract where he could face her and read her expressions more easily.

Contract shrugged, a little reluctant, but she answered. "As Intrepid pointed out, I need to talk to _someone_. And the other thing I realized when he said that, is that I spent a great deal of time discovering the nuances of my powers, one tiny piece at a time, and I was always surrounded by the same people day in and day out. We've never sought an outside opinion. There might be underlying assumptions we never questioned."

She glanced around the table, lingering on Clockblocker specifically. "Understand, the few occasions where an outside party has managed to gain a detailed understanding of the mechanics of my powers _have not_ ended well. Granted, they were my enemies and sought specifically to do harm to me and mine – but the fact stands that there are things I simply will not explain. You'll be able to gather a working understanding of the whats without needing all the hows and whys. So when I say back off, you back off."

Around the table, everyone nodded. "Start from the beginning," Beetle suggested. "Pretend we're a blank slate, except that this time you can actually trust us."

Contract still seemed a little cautious, but then she nodded determinedly. "My power is based in sacrifice. The greater the cost I pay, the greater an effect I can buy. Greater not in the sense of monetary worth but based on its impact to me."

"Can you elaborate?" Beetle prompted, as Contract paused.

Slowly, Contract continued. "I don't know how familiar you all are with the Bible, but you might know the tale of the widow who gave two coins to the temple?" She met blank stares around the table.

"Jesus was at the temple, and when he saw her gift, he said she had contributed much more than the rich men who had given great wealth, because she was poor and gave everything she had."

Beetle was nodding in comprehension, but the rest of the team seemed taken aback by the biblical reference. Even having seen her in the church, quoting obscure passages to the priest, he wasn't fully sure what to make of this, but it was only a brief example to illustrate her point. Perhaps she had religion on the mind after their visit.

"It works the same way for both my costs and my effects. If giving it up means more to me, the cost is more valuable. If obtaining something means a great deal to me, the effect is more expensive. Clock, last night you mentioned the PRT giving me a budget to use to create contracts… do you see now why it wouldn't work? The money wouldn't mean anything to me. Abstractly, I'd know that it had come from taxes and so it would have a little bit of value emotionally, picturing that, but it'd be more effective to just spend the money on better armor than it would be for me to trade it for a force-field to deflect a blow. Does that make sense?"

"Sure. I guess. But is there _anything_ we can do to help? So you don't have to pay these costs alone?"

Contract hesitated. Intrepid guessed that she had been planning on moving the conversation in another direction, but instead she hovered over the question in indecision. Finally, she answered. "Other people can pay a cost, or part of a cost, if they understand what's going on. If you know that it's a sacrifice, and you accept that, and you trust me to negotiate the terms… it works."

Beetle and Vista both leaned in, eager, but Contract hurried on, qualifying the statement. "Sometimes. There's a lot of trust involved. You have to trust me implicitly, and I have to be able to trust you, that you're really willing to do it. And I have to care about the person taking on the cost, and it has to be the sort of cost I'd care about if I was to do it for myself. It's the sympathy, the empathy, I feel and the guilt that I'm the one inflicting it, that lets the cost matter. I act as the bridge, I guess you could say.

"So, for example, if everyone in the world gave up a hundred bucks, it wouldn't really be more powerful than if each of you gave up a hundred bucks, because the human brain is really bad at multiplication. And if one of you gave up… I don't know… if one of you accepted the cost that eating meat would make you sick, it wouldn't really count as a big sacrifice, no matter how much you love meat, because I'm pretty indifferent to the stuff."

"But you do care enough about us that we could share a cost?" Beetle asked gently.

Contract gave a jerky nod, but qualified her statement, "Probably. Depending on the cost."

Beetle glanced over Intrepid's shoulder, and he realized that Gallant had been taking notes the whole time. The white board now read:

 _Costs=effects  
Size depends on personal emotion  
Others pay=TRUST  
Costs "bridged"= emotional connection (cost __and_ _person)  
Wards count_

It was coded enough just by abbreviation that someone who hadn't heard the discussion probably wouldn't understand, at least not easily or without Thinker powers, but it was detailed enough to act as a reminder for the Wards.

"So this all depends on emotion, right?" Vista checked, glancing over to the board as well, thinking on what they had learned. Although the details were new, the main idea was familiar from her previous explanations. Even the ability to spread the cost between others had been hinted at.

Even so, the picture felt a little more complete now.

"The human brain is bad at multiplying…" Kid Win mused aloud. "It's not so great with division, either. What happens if you introduce probability?"

The Wards all looked at him, so he explained. "What if you say, I want to trade A for B, when B would is more expensive than A. Normally, it wouldn't work, but you qualify it by saying you'll only make the trade if you flip a coin and it comes up heads. Does the 50% uncertainty make B less expensive?"

Contract sighed. "Sort of. As Clock has seen, and as some of you may have guessed, there are a number of work-arounds that I've developed over the years. Probability is one of them. But the scenario you described doesn't work, Kid Win, because you can just keep flipping the coin. On other hand, if you make the deal, I will sacrifice A regardless of the coin flip, and I will receive B only in the case of flipping heads, you can reduce the cost. But it doesn't reduce by 50%. It's hard to quantify, but I'd say you gain only 20 or 25%. It's hard to convince yourself emotionally that you're _equally_ likely to fail and to succeed.

"On one memorable occasion I was having a string of truly horrible luck, and I made a probability deal, which reduced the cost to less than a third of the normal with just a single coin flip. I got heads and made out like a bandit. Ash suspects that the incident actually made such deals less effective overall, because I secretly believe that I'll always flip heads, no matter how many times the opposite comes true."

If Contract realized that she had spoken of Ash in the present tense, there was no sign of it. Fortunately, no one seemed to want to correct her, so it passed un-remarked.

"What else can you do to cheat?" Beetle pressed, moving the conversation along.

"Sometimes re-wording how I think of the sacrifice or the effect will work, but only in closed contracts. For example, when I healed Clock's dad I focused on 'I'm doing a favor for my teammate' rather than 'I'm saving a life' and I also decided that the cost was 'moving into the bloody PRT base' rather than 'leaving behind the Smiths' who I didn't care about anyway.

"That's not typically very effective, unless I can make the deal on the fly and not over-think it. The harder you try to fool yourself, the harder it is to do. I can occassionally reduce the emotional impact by lumping contract together, but it's only a five percent reduction if that.

"Ignorance works sometimes. Jo drove me up to a warehouse once that had a clinic built on the other half, and told me to heal everyone in the building. Stuff like that typically only works once, though."

Beetle reached to the center of the table, grabbed a post-it, and wrote something on it. Then she peeled it off, folded it up, and handed it to Vista. "How much would that cost?" She asked, pointing to the paper.

Contract sighed. "More that I'm willing to pay. I strongly suspect you wrote down 'destroy the Simurgh.' In addition to the fact that I don't know what I could trade for that, I wouldn't make the deal just in case you actually wrote down 'the next coin flip will be a heads' or 'we will all find a penny today.' I have to have some idea of what I'm doing."

Beetle's face fell, and Vista opened the note. "Erase the Simurgh with the same effect as Behemoth," she read aloud. Contract spread her hands in a remarkably effective I-told-you-so.

"It was worth a shot," Gallant said. He had added a column to the whiteboard titled Shortcuts.

Shortcuts _  
Coin Flip (dice?)  
Word play (better on the spot)  
Ignorance (one use, gen idea) _

"Changing tracks, can you give us some more examples?" Clockblocker asked carefully. "Can you tell us the sacrifices you're currently paying, for example?"

Intrepid held his breath. His gut told him that this would be a touchy subject, though he wasn't sure precisely why. Contract looked at Clockblocker, and Intrepid just knew that it was on the tip of her tongue to say no, but at the last moment she glanced at Intrepid, met his gaze, and something she read in his face changed her mind.

"I am living in the Ward's base. I am cooperating with the PRT. I am permanently two inches shorter than I would otherwise be. I am now blonde." Intrepid felt himself react to that, his heart constricting in sympathy, but she didn't pause or give any hint that giving up her physical identity was any different than changing where she slept.

Instead she plowed ahead. "I am giving no direct help to anyone from my previous life. My dog is dead." Her voice hitched, and Intrepid guessed that she had just remembered that Ash, too, was dead, even if it wasn't part of a deal.

"I…" her voice broke. She looked back to Clockblocker. "You don't get to ask for details on this one." Then she looked up at Gallant, who was furiously writing. "I betrayed my family."

She glanced down at her hands. "I am no longer ambidextrous, having given up most of the function in my left hand. I haven't shot a gun since Behemoth." She was quiet for a while. "I think that's all."

"Damn." Vista whispered, looking at the list. Even abbreviated by Gallant's note taking, it was daunting.

"Can we ask what this bought?" Kid Win said, sounding a little shaky.

"All sort of things. I needed more computer skills than I had if I wanted to deal with Sophia, I protected a building in New York, I healed Clock's father, I dealt with the bullies in Winslow, there was some stuff in New York when I was with the Wards there… it's been a rough couple of months."

Beetle reached out and put a hand on her arm. "Thank you for your part in handling Sophia." Contract smiled, and blushed.

"Least I could do." She cleared her throat, and purposefully looked toward Gallant, before Clockblocker could offer his own heart-felt thanks. "That reminds me of another short cut. I can look for tools rather than solutions. For example, I decided to use hacking to prove Sophia's guilt, instead of just straight trading for someone in authority to catch her red-handed, or forcing her to confess. It took longer, and it nearly backfired, but it was cheaper because it was less sure."

"Okay." Beetle was looking very pensive. "I'm not actually suggesting we do this, but what if…" she trailed off until Contract waved her on, clearly concerned with how her suggestion would be taken.

"We don't know the exact nature of the first Endbringer sacrifice, but you said it was basically a matter of betrayal, right? So what would happen if you were to be exposed to a master like Heartbreaker, and then he were to order you to stay away from him, but left you seriously loyal and in love. Would that sort of mimic the same cost?"

All things considered, Contract took the suggestion that she let herself be mastered very calmly. Given her extreme resistance to Company and other manipulations, Intrepid was not expecting her to shrug in response to that query, and from the look on her face, neither was Beetle.

"Well, in theory being forced to walk away from an emotional bond that strong would be sufficient to do significant damage to the Simurgh, probably erase her like I did Behemoth. But you've got a number of issues:

"First, that would release Behemoth. If I was Heartbroken, I wouldn't care about the betrayal currently containing Behemoth, so that cost would vanish, and I'd have seconds, maybe half a minute tops to figure out a new cost to trade for his disappearance, which puts us right back on square one. And that's assuming I even _try_ to find a trade, because I might be too messed up to even care.

"Second, enduring inner conflict on the level of being separated from Heartbreaker would probably guarantee suicide, and I don't know what happens to ongoing contracts at the time of my death.

"Third, there's a decent chance that any master trying to control me will end up dead."

For a moment, everyone around the table seemed to just absorb that. Then Clockblocker and Intrepid both opened their mouth at the same time, but Intrepid kept talking and Clockblocker cut himself off to listen.

"Why? How would they die?"

Contract shifted in her seat, uncomfortable. "I don't want to lie to you, but I'm genuinely not sure that you'd believe me if I told you." She closed her eyes, tilting her head back, thinking. "Maybe you can believe this, even if it's sort of misleading." She opened her eyes and met his gaze.

"I have it on good authority that there are powerful forces at work in the world, and that I am worth more to them alive than dead. I believe these forces will exert at least some effort to keep me alive, which is why I haven't worried too much about what happens to my contracts after I die. It has been implied that these forces would also intervene if I was to be emotionally mastered or manipulated in such a way as to destroy my free will."

Immediately, Intrepid smelled conspiracy. Powerful forces had to be capes, right? Then he caught himself and forcefully reminded himself that she had explicitly warned them that the information would be misleading. Better to accept the fact she (probably) couldn't be mastered and move on.

Clockblocker cleared his throat, "What else might release Behemoth? I think we can all agree we need to avoid those routes."

Contract sighed. "It's about balance. The contract with Behemoth is if-then, so both the cost _and_ the effect are on-going. It's a pretty rare type of deal for me. It means that the cost and effect have to stay balanced at all times. If I continue in my betrayal, then Behemoth stays put. If I stop caring as much about my actions, then the contract tips out of balance. It's the betrayal, not the actual act, that matters. There's some fluctuation daily, of course, because no one is made of stone, but the key is to stay within an order of magnitude of balance. Right now, it's actually tipped in our favor.

"I made the contract with the understanding that the remaining Endbringers would continue in a natural attack progression. It was the best way I could come up with to say that taking out Behemoth wouldn't just mean that we saw more of the other two. Only apparently it didn't work. Somehow, the natural reaction to my destroying Behemoth is for the Simurgh to attack early.

"I don't know why they reacted that way, but the key is that keeping Behemoth gone doesn't mean as much to me now as it did back in January. Normally it wouldn't matter. The effect would be a closed effect, even if the cost was still open. Whatever wording I used, I'd be stuck with. But because the contract is if-then, I'm currently actively paying for more than I'm getting. Keeping Behemoth gone doesn't mean much if the other two, or more, are just going to rampage.

"So we've got a little bit of extra capitol to play with. Ash was hoping I could use that extra rope to take out the Simurgh. It's not _that_ much extra credit, but it's pretty valuable."

"So what do you need from the Triumvirate?" Vista asked, staring at the board.

"Facts. I need to know everything they know about the origins of the Endbringers, and everything about the Endbringers themselves. The more I know, the better the chance that I can find a shortcut."

"You don't think they'll give you that information willingly?" Kid Win asked.

Contract shrugged. "Legally, I can't answer that."

Intrepid had expected her to say that the information was too dangerous, but invoking the law worked too, right up until Vista realized, "You do know that blackmail is illegal too, right?"

Contract shrugged again. "That's why I'm warning you now. Get out if you want to."

Vista shook her head. "No, I'm with you. Especially if you promise to ask nicely first," she teased.

"Of course."

Vista glanced around the table. "Then I think we're all with you."

Intrepid remembered back in January, watching Panacea talk to Alexandria, and being impressed with how she kept her cool and even pushed back against the hero slightly. He glanced around the table and marveled at how much could change in two short months.

Around the table, heads nodded, and Wards murmured or spoke their agreement. Then they all sort of glanced at each other awkwardly for a moment. "So, uh, do we invite them down?" Kid Win asked tentatively.

"Unless you guys can think of any other questions or loopholes for my powers, I think so. I mean, do you see solutions I'm missing, here?"

Beetle spoke up, breaking herself out of whatever thoughts she had been lost in. "I feel like it would be more effective for us to explore detailed strategy after we have all the facts on our enemy."

"Then let's do this," Contract said, as she met Intrepid's eyes. Despite the many, many ways this could go wrong, Intrepid gave her his best smile. At the very least, it wouldn't be boring.


	27. Doing Right

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: Doing Right**

 **March 19, 2011, 2:31 AM**

Colin saw the Wards to their base, watched as Clockblocker organized his team, and then turned to go to Piggot's office. Mentally, he reviewed the events of the evening, particularly the Ward's response to the death of Ash.

The immediate, coordinated action from Gallant and Clockblocker was a credit to their crisis reaction conditioning, and spoke of prior coordination to establish a code word. Intrepid and Beetle had also stepped up admirably to manage the immediate potential for danger.

Personally, he agreed with Intrepid's assertion that there was no danger of Contract releasing Behemoth. He doubted anything less than a specific, targeted Simurgh plot would suffice to overcome Contract's iron will, and the fact that the Endbringer was still headed for Canberra indicated that this probably wasn't her work.

But that personal confidence didn't change the fact that the stakes were incredibly high, if they were wrong. In light of that, he approved of Clockblocker's immediate action which had allowed them a moment to react to the situation, though Contract wouldn't be happy when and if she realized what he'd done.

He reached Piggot's door and shut down the train of thought dedicated to his internal analysis of the Wards' dynamic, taking a moment to prioritize his report to her. Then he rapped sharply on the door and stepped through as soon as he heard her gruff, "Enter!"

She didn't seem surprised to see him, but Armsmaster found that he sometimes had difficulty reading the director. Before she could ask questions, he said, "Please engage all security protocols."

Piggot looked a little skeptical at that, but went through the sequence to engage anyway. "What's so important?"

"There has been an incident that you need to be made aware of immediately. Contract just watched a member of her family be shot. They were talking on a video call, when a man entered the room and shot Ash. Contract reacted with anger, mostly, and between the combined efforts of Intrepid and Beetle she has now cried herself out and is currently sleeping in her bunk. The Wards are taking shifts to sit with her in case she wakes up."

"When was this?" Piggot barked out.

"The shot was fired fifty-three minutes ago. I came directly from the Wards base to report to you."

"Why wasn't I informed fifty-three minutes ago? What if she had released Behemoth?"

"I did not feel that was likely. I also felt this information should be kept under all available protections, which required that you be informed personally. I don't believe she will release Behemoth, but I don't think it wise to risk common knowledge of her vulnerability, either."

Piggot pursed her lips, but didn't argue the point further. Instead, she backtracked and grilled Armsmaster for a full report, from the moment he'd left her office hours earlier to the time when he knocked on her door.

He didn't show her the video call, though he had recorded it. He also didn't tell her that he'd continued watching the feed after he cut the connection to the conference room. He wanted a chance to investigate Ash's death, and his life, without oversight. They'd been given a slew of new information about Contract's past, and he felt it was important to keep it out of the wrong hands. Though he trusted Piggot, he knew that a secret told could never be retrieved, and he didn't know each member of the PRT enough to trust them with information of this importance.

So after relating the details that she could have gotten from any of the Wards if she chose to double check his report, Armsmaster left her office and called Miss Militia.

His second-in-command (and soon to be co-leader) assured him that all was quiet in Brockton Bay. Armsmaster told her that Triumph and Aegis were also at her disposal, and informed her that he'd put the Wards on leave from active service. She didn't ask why, astute enough to understand that if he didn't volunteer the information, she wasn't to know it. That kind of insight was why he valued her as a teammate, and why he needed her as a co-leader.

Next he retreated to his workshop, where he implemented his own protocols to protect his work. He took the time to set up a ghost drive in his computer, then used it to back-trace the line which Ash had used for his video call. It wasn't difficult work - in addition to Ash's own coding, which seemed rushed, there were traces of Dragon's work everywhere as she tracked him from the moment he'd first messaged her.

Armsmaster tried to back-trace the hack into Alexandria's inbox, but hit a bizarre dead end. Only after poking around for close to an hour did he realize the truth: the other end of the connection was missing - not disconnected, but destroyed.

He cued up the video recording, and fast-forwarded to the moment he'd killed the link to the room's VC system.

He watched as Ash's blood sprayed everywhere, a single drop even landing on the laptop camera and turning half the display red. In the reduced visibility, he watched again as the killer turned, gun coming up even higher. Before he'd completed the action, there was a second gunshot that sounded quite different than the shotgun. A handgun, he'd guess, large caliber based on the way the back of the killer's head disintegrated.

The killer's body - Lucius Westfall's body, if Contract's rant was to be trusted - slumped out of sight, probably to the bar floor, and Armsmaster had a moment's view of the background without anyone in view of the camera. It was definitely a bar. After that moment, there was a second gunshot from the same handgun, and the camera rattled. At the time, he'd assumed there was a partner somewhere off camera he couldn't see. A third shot from the handgun cut the video feed, but not the audio or the signal itself. It took a fourth shot to do that.

Someone had shot Ash's killer, then shot the laptop 3 times in lightning-fast succession, without pause or hesitation. The only other person that he knew for sure to be in the room was the woman talking in the background. Had Ash mentioned her name? He watched the video again and, yes, Ash had said "Ellis is on the phone now," so presumably the woman was Ellis.

He'd learned all there was to learn from the video and hack itself. Now to turn to outside resources.

A search for Lucius Westfall turned up a number of weapons permits in Mississippi, Lousianna, and Georgia, a license for a truck from Florida, a dropout from business administration at University of Pennsylvania twenty years prior, and no living relatives. Interestingly, there was also no permanent work address. The address listed on his weapons permit was registered as a boarding house in Illinois.

All in all, the picture painted by his legal footprint did not point to a man who would walk into a bar and shoot a man. There was no history of mental illness, no indication of prior violence.

Searching for Ellis without a last name or age was useless, turning up thousands of listings in the US. Ash was a less common name, especially accounting for an age range somewhere between twenty-five and forty-five, but it was still too many, particularly when the search was expanded to include surnames. There was nothing to distinguish the MIT graduate from the homeless Afghan veteran. Even cross-checking for a handgun permit didn't help: no "Ash"s legally owned a handgun and far too many "Ellis"s did.

Just as Armsmaster was knuckling down to start trying to find other traces of Ash in the PRT system, Dragon called him.

"Hello?"

"Colin? I've got a few minutes break in crisis coordination. How is Fi doing?"

"Did you see the video conference recording?"

"I just watched it. How is she?"

"Sleeping, for now." Colin rubbed his temples, realizing now that he'd stopped working that he had a headache. It had probably been building for a while. "The Wards are keeping watch."

"What can I do?"

"I'm trying to find answers about what happened, as well as any details about who Ash is. It's one thing to give her privacy, but the more I know, the better I can help."

Dragon nodded. "I would have told you about the whole situation sooner, if I thought it would help. I'll forward you the records of our messages when I get the time to compile them. They're both so cagey that even after a month I don't know much."

"What _do_ you know?"

"He's a good programmer. I got the impression they were pretty close."

Armsmaster ground his teeth. He had gathered that much for himself, thanks, but he tried to reign in his temper and not take his frustrations out on Dragon. "Where was he hacking from, physically?"

"The line always traced to a bunch of empty cotton fields in Texas. At first I assumed it was a safety measure, to bounce the signal through a terminal there, but now I'm not sure."

She sent the coordinates and he pulled the site up on satellite images. It did indeed appear to be the middle of nowhere. Armsmaster zoomed out, to get a better sense of which part of Texas they were talking about, and realized as he did so that the coordinates were sitting in the center of ten squares miles of fields that were out of season with the rest of the imagery. The resolution was off too.

The timestamp matched the surrounding data, but when he dug deeper into the data embedded in the picture, he found that the satellite images were close to fifteen years old.

Dragon, likely following his monitor or his keystrokes or both, gasped as he went to the satellite source and pulled up the most recent images manually.

Sitting in the center of the anomalous square was a large dirt plot, a parking lot, surrounding an old building that was most likely a bar.

County records showed no building permit, no taxes filed, nothing of any kind to indicate the existence of a structure in the area. The cotton fields were owned by a Robert Harding, who had been dead approximately fifteen years, but suspiciously the fields had never been claimed by anyone. And yet someone had to be planting and harvesting the farm, keeping up the appearance of his continued existence, even paying taxes on the farm income. And whoever it was, they were hiding an illegal bar on their property, where Ash had been killed just hours before.

Interestingly, Robert Harding had been married to an Ellis Greyson. They had one daughter: Johanna Harding who was now twenty eight years old. Other than his marriage and death certificates, there was very little on Robert Harding after a hunting accident that landed in him in the hospital when he was thirty-seven. Ellis' trail ended when she was nineteen, with the exception of her marriage license and her daughter's birth certificate. It was as though Ellis had dropped out of mainstream society at nineteen. She'd never even owned a credit card. There were no school or health records for Johanna, other than a birth certificate and a GED when she was fifteen.

If Ellis was the one operating the bar, which seemed likely, she was either using a gun off the black market, or perhaps one of the several weapons which Robert Harding had bought just after his accident. She had no handguns registered in her own name.

There was no Ash associated with any of the Hardings.

"You should see this." Dragon matched words to actions and sent him a link to a current satellite feed. Strictly speaking, accessing that satellite was illegal, but with the Simurgh on the move no one would look twice at the Protectorate accessing satellite data, even satellites pointed at Texas.

It took a little while to understand what he was seeing. He mistook the smoke for a storm cloud, and then even after he realized that he was actually seeing a fire, he didn't grasp the full significance right away.

The bar was burning.

From the look of things, it had been burning for a while. The roof had partially caved in, no longer supported by the interior, so the fire may have started in the main room. Was this evidence of more violence? Had it been set purposefully, to hide the evidence of the two deaths he already knew had happened here?

There were no cars in the dirt lot, but it did seem that the lot was big enough to contain the sparks. So far, the fields hadn't been affected. It looked like the fields might have been watered recently, perhaps as a precaution, but Armsmaster couldn't be sure.

"What do we do?" Dragon asked, though she didn't restore their visual link. Armsmaster didn't initiate visual either: audio would do for now, and he wanted the monitor space.

"Can we call the Texas Protectorate?"

"They're all responding to the Simurgh call to arms."

Of course. Armsmaster should have remembered that. The Texas team was the most mobile team in the country. It allowed them to be spread out, which was how they covered such an enormous area and why the PRT had been reluctant to allow Contract to be based there.

Armsmaster turned the options over in his head, but there weren't many choices. He could either make this an official investigation, or not. He didn't particularly want Fi's background investigated by strangers, however, and he knew she wouldn't want that either. She might even view it as a breach of trust, considering how closely she had held her secrets until now. Getting her to talk in front of Glenn and Legend - was that less than six hours ago? - had been like pulling camel teeth.

"We wait," Armsmaster finally answered. "After we deal with the Simurgh, I will go to Texas, or you can take a suit there, or I'll call up Ranger and talk to him personally. We worked together in Texas before I was transferred here, and he'd do me a favor if I asked. But any evidence is likely gone already. It will take me too long to get there now, the fire will be finished, and I can't say with certainty that this is important enough to call Ranger or anyone else away from the Simurgh preparations. For now, we wait."

"Speaking of, the predictions are stabilizing right around 5:45 AM," Dragon stated, implicitly asking for his help.

Armsmaster checked the time in the corner of his monitor as he pulled up the predictive algorithm. 4:33 AM. No pressure.

* * *

When the Simurgh actually arrived over Canberra, Armsmaster breathed a sigh of guilty relief. There was nothing more for him to do.

Instead, he could and would leave the management of the conflict in Dragon's capable hands while he returned his attention to the small doubt that had been growing in his subconscious all evening.

Where were Contract's rewards for killing Behemoth?

Her file from the New York City Protectorate was unwieldy. It seemed to consist of a transcript or after-action report from nearly every interaction she'd had over the course of the fifteen days she'd been there, in addition to copious notes from Company, Alexandria, and other thinkers. When Contract had transferred to Brockton Bay, Armsmaster had read Legend's summary, as well as the summaries written by the Wards, but hadn't bothered to slug through the entire file. That was about to change.

It took twenty minutes to find the information he wanted. Part of the delay was caused by being continuously, and morbidly, distracted by the content of the documents he was trying to skim through. The other cause was the simple disarray of the file. The documents weren't well named, the linking was inconsistent, and it seemed they'd abandoned a tagging system all together somewhere around the seventh or eighth day.

Despite this, he did finally uncover the information he wanted. Legend, acting in his capacity as her temporary guardian, had ordered the rewards be put into her Ward's trust, waiting to be released along with the normal $50,000 bonus. There was no record or indication that he'd discussed the decision with her, or even informed her of it. Searching the correspondence time-stamped the day before this action did turn up a motive: Company had warned Legend that the pressure of needing to manage so much money was one stress that Contract didn't need.

Perhaps a valid point, but not one to be considered in isolation. Armsmaster knew, from his conversations with her, that the general lack of gratitude from the Protectorate and PRT had weighed on her. The world had celebrated, and the internet had exploded with thanks, but she'd been kept largely apart from these revelries for her own safety. It wasn't that either choice was unforgivable, but more that there was no sign that they had been discussed with Contract.

If she had been kept inside the PRT headquarters most of the first day, being questioned about her powers, did she know that the entirety of New York City had woken up with a hangover on her account?

Did she even know that she had a trust?

Mentally, Armsmaster revised that. She knew about the trust, surely. He couldn't see Contract of all people signing the Ward's employment contract without reading every detail. But did she know that the bounties had been put into it?

There was a more sinister possibility, which he tried to ignore. Had the New York Protectorate and PRT chosen to isolate Contract from the revelry and bounties as a way of isolating her in general, to try to control her? It was an unsettling possibility, and not a conclusion he would reach lightly.

After all, Contract had voluntarily removed herself from the foster and school programs in Brockton Bay, essentially cutting herself off from all civilian contact. Nowhere in any of her transcripts did she inquire about the bounties, protest her confinement, or even show an interest in touring New York. In fact, she spent a large amount of time silent, ignoring whoever happened to be talking to her.

That sort of passive aggressiveness he could easily reconcile with the Contract he knew.

Far sooner than expected, Dragon rang him up again, exuberant about the victory over the Simurgh, on the excuse that she wanted his help putting together some sort of statistical model for why Canberra ought to be quarantined. They'd barely begun when Dragon's animated façade suddenly twitched, and then she dropped the call abruptly.

Thirty seconds later, Dragon sent him a message:

 _D: Triumvirate coming to BB. Looking for Fi. Action?_

Immediately, he understood the situation and cursed himself for not predicting it earlier. The Simurgh had attacked ahead of schedule, presumably as a result of whatever Contract had done to Behemoth. Armsmaster knew that Contract had been surprised by the news, and until the moment she was informed otherwise had actually considered it impossible. She and Ash had even seemed to be trying to prevent the attack, assuming that Armsmaster had understood their conversation.

The Triumvirate, having not seen the video call, knew none of this. The obvious first course of action, after dealing with the Simurgh, was to question Contract. Both to establish what, if anything, she knew about the schedule change as well as to explore possible solutions.

Legend had raised the issue the previous evening before Glenn had interrupted them, trying to press Contract for details of what she had done. And that had been before the Simurgh added urgency to the situation.

Armsmaster considered what he knew, what the Triumvirate likely knew, and what he guessed of Contract's state of mind. He was the first to admit that he didn't fully understand most human beings, but it didn't take a great leap of intuition to read the hostility that Contract held for Legend and the Triumvirate.

 _A: Tell them that Contract lost family last night. Now is NOT the time to press her._

 _D: They're not listening. Details?_

The speed of Dragon's answer told Armsmaster that she had already tried to deter them with an oblique summary. Given that Piggot knew the details, and that they would eventually be made a matter of record, there was no reason to deny the Triumvirate the specifics. None that they would find acceptable, at any rate.

 _A: Yes._

There was a few moments of delay. Not nearly enough time for them to have viewed the video, so Dragon had probably provided a verbal summary.

 _D: Didn't work._

Armsmaster ground his teeth and cursed, again, his poor social skills. He knew that he didn't make the best impression on the people around him - though he was never quite sure why - and he often wondered if he would be more listened to if he was better liked. Did his judgment count for nothing?

In his frustration, he ran a hand over his face and happened to catch sight of what he'd been doing before he'd been interrupted by Dragon.

 _A: They can't see Contract until I say so. Technically, I am her legal guardian. I will be waiting for them in conference room 703._

 _D: Good Luck._

Armsmaster immediately set out preparing the documentation he would need. First, the court order that Legend had pushed through the New York court system, declaring Contract to be a minor, a legal orphan, and a ward of the Protectorate; specifically, a ward of her regional leader. There had been some question about making her a ward of the regional PRT director instead, but the New York director hadn't wanted the hassle so it had fallen to Legend instead. Only it didn't name Legend specifically, just the title of her regional Protectorate leader.

Next, Armsmaster queued up the video recording and clipped everything he hadn't shown the Wards into a separate file. He garbled Ellis' voice in the background of the recording, and made a mental note to go back later and isolate what she was saying. It was a potential source of information he had overlooked earlier. He also remembered, at the last minute, to fuzz the Ward's civilian faces. As their adult superior, he was privy to their private files, but the Triumvirate were not.

He also prepared a record of the conversation with Ash that had convinced him to let Ash have contact with Contract. He didn't include his conversation with Dragon, or her messages with Ash. They could summarize that verbally.

He pulled up his beta of "he said, she said" and scanned through the file. He took the first fifty seconds and copied them into the start of an official report. He started with Ash's last words and ran through Contract's scream of "bastard". This meant that the file included the first gunshot, Contract screaming Ash's full name at the same time, Gallant cuing Clockblocker with the pre-arranged "Tag," code, Gallant's immediate assessment of her emotional reaction to losing a pseudo parent, namely hatred, and Intrepid's assessment that Contract wouldn't release Behemoth.

It was the most natural place to break off the transcript such that it didn't include Contract's rant which hinted at the Simurgh's involvement. Given her attack on Canberra, it didn't seem likely that Contract had been her actual target, and Armsmaster wasn't going to muddy the waters by telling the Triumvirate what Contract had said in the middle of grief, anger, and fear.

Armsmaster might not have realized he was her legal guardian before today, but now that he was aware of the responsibility, he was going to do his absolute best to live up to it.

* * *

Dragon alerted Armsmaster when the Triumvirate were eight minutes out from Brockton Bay. Armsmaster took that opportunity to send a prepared email to Piggot, Renick, Miss Militia, and Costa-Brown, informing them that the Triumvirate were inbound to Brockton Bay and he was reserving the secure conference room for briefing.

He also sent a separate warning to Miss Militia and Clockblocker, detailing exactly what sort of briefing the Triumvirate preferred. He left implicit the wish to delay that interview with Contract as long as possible.

Quick on the uptake as always, Miss Militia immediately assigned Battery, who was on monitor duty, to accompany her to the PRT headquarter to use the Wards' consul for monitoring, so that she could also serve as a physical guard for Contract without waking her. It prevented any of the Triumvirate from volunteering for the same position, cleverly blocking a potential access point.

Clockblocker didn't immediately reply, so Armsmaster forwarded the message to Kid Win, who was scheduled to be sitting with Contract in case she woke. The hero's answer was to wish him good luck.

It was not a sentiment Armsmaster received often, but he had to admit some satisfaction with having heard it twice now in quick succession. It made him feel like he was making the right judgment calls.

He made his way to the conference room and helped Dragon connect to one of the monitors near the head of the table, where he immediately sat down. Piggot came in a minute later, looking tired and harried. Renick looked a little fresher; he'd probably been allowed to sleep until the Simurgh actually arrived in Canberra and the official on-call alert had been issued.

The Triumvirate arrived before Miss Militia did, all three of them touching down under their own power. Armsmaster took half a moment to wonder why Eidolon hadn't teleported them over, but realized almost immediately that they'd probably used the flight to strategize. It's what he would have done.

Miss Militia arrived at the ground floor while Battery was still in route from the Protectorate base, but since Battery would likely be another five or six minutes out that couldn't be helped. Armsmaster used his access to the building's elevator system to deliver Miss Militia first, and then send the car up for the Triumvirate.

Some might think it was petty, perhaps, but Armsmaster's specialty was efficiency. He knew that every second could count, which was why he'd waited until the last possible moment to alert the rest of Brockton Bay to the Triumvirate's arrival. He intended to delay the meeting in every way he could.

When the Triumvirate made it to the conference room, Armsmaster insisted they wait to hear back from PRT Director Costa-Brown, who had not yet answered his email. There was an awkward silence that lasted nearly thirty seconds before Armsmaster received a reply. The director deferred her authority to Alexandria so that she could focus on the diplomatic situation with Canberra. It was the result Armsmaster expected - Costa-Brown often allowed Alexandria to be her voice and a counterpoint to Legend when she was unable to attend to something herself - but it took time, which was the general point.

Armsmaster also had a vague idea that Piggot hated it when Costa-Brown appointed a hero, rather than a deputy director, to speak for her. But that tension was too uncertain for him to be sure that it would pay out anything in this conversation.

After this was received, Armsmaster began the exhaustive process of employing every security protocol he had managed to uncover during his window of preparation. By PRT regulation, any cape or officer could request any security protocol at any time, until overruled by his superior's superior. In Armsmaster's case, that meant Costa-Brown, and while Alexandria appeared annoyed she wasn't confident enough in the situation to overrule him.

Nearly forty minutes later, the conversation actually began.

"Just what is so critical?" Alexandria snapped out in a demanding tone, unintentionally putting the conversation back into Armsmaster's hands. While he normally was succinct in his reports, he had received feedback on a few occasions that he possessed "the Tinker tendency to pay a great deal of attention to details of little importance."

Even though Armsmaster didn't agree with the feedback when it had been given to him, he intended to emulate it now. He began with Dragon's call about the algorithm, and walked the entire audience through his evening in exacting, excruciating detail, including technical programming details that he had frequently been advised to skip over in the past.

He insisted on listening to his recorded discussion with Ash three times, and played the prepared video five times through. He read the transcript of Gallant's diagnostic out loud, rather than allowing them to read it for themselves.

By the time he was finished, it had taken nearly an hour and half all told. Battery had been replaced by Velocity on the Protectorate consul, while Triumph took over "guard duty." Just after eight am, he got a message from Triumph that Contract had left the base with Intrepid and Clockblocker. Due to his insistence on security protocols, Armsmaster couldn't send a message out, so instead he dragged out his verbal summary of Contract's break down a little more than he had intended, walking a fine line between delaying the Triumvirate and giving them too much information.

Finally, he reported on Clockblocker's watch rotation assignment and his decision to post a Protectorate member in the Wards' base as a guard, implying the decisions had happened at the same time.

He didn't particularly want to discuss what he'd discovered about Ash after that, and thankfully Legend didn't give him the opportunity to do so.

"Are you suggesting that we not talk to Contract?" Legend demanded, leaning forward across the table.

Armsmaster counted to three in his head, remembering that every second counted, and promised to make the same pause every time he answered. He used the moment of delay to check the clock. 8:43 AM. The Wards had been gone for twenty-one minutes. How long would they be out?

"She is in a fragile mental state. Just because we have no indication that she will release Behemoth does not make it wise to push her."

"I'm not sure I agree with your assessment of her ability to hold him back," Alexandria said.

At the same time, Legend dryly pointed out, "We had no indication the Endbringers would accelerate, either. We need answers."

Dragon answered Alexandria while Armsmaster cursed the belligerence Contract had shown to Glenn and Legend last night. Would he be more sympathetic if she hadn't been antagonistic?

"I have spoken with Contract when she was, by her own admission, on the edge of giving up. None of the social cues she exhibited at that time were present at any point last night. She was upset, but not depressed. Most likely, Ash's death has strengthened her resolution to save lives, not weakened it."

"We can't know that without speaking with her," Alexandria insisted.

Armsmaster started his count, but Miss Militia spoke before he was finished, "Gallant is surely the best one to judge the emotional state of his teammate, having both prior exposure to her and the ability to read her emotional aura." His co-leader turned to address him specifically, "Did Gallant give any indication that he was concerned with a Behemoth return at any time last night?"

This time, Armsmaster did get to finish his delaying count. "No. Quite the opposite." Though Gallant hadn't denied the possibility, Intrepid vocally had and Gallant had not contradicted him.

Alexandria pursed her lips, but it was Eidolon that spoke next, "Even so, we have never seen the Endbringers accelerate for any reason other than the emergence of a new specimen. We need to speak with Contract about the possible causes."

Renick defended Contract immediately, even before Dragon or Miss Militia could speak, "We all saw the video. Contract wasn't expecting an attack any more than we were. In fact, she tried to prevent it, and she was confused that it was even possible. She also clearly stated that there's nothing more she can do."

"So she said in the heat of the moment," Piggot threw in. Armsmaster suppressed the instinct to frown at her, instead staying focused on the Triumvirate.

"And you think she'll be more level headed now, in the midst of her grief?" Dragon asked, sounding genuinely confused.

Piggot shook her head. "No. But it may be a line to pursue later, at a more appropriate time."

Alexandria wasn't going to give up that easily, but then Armsmaster hadn't expected her to. "We don't need your permission." She planted her hands on the arms of her chair, like she was going to stand up.

"You do need mine," Armsmaster interjected, choosing to forego his delay. Alexandria froze, and Armsmaster carefully didn't let his mouth twitch in the slightest.

"Excuse me?" Eidolon asked, confused.

"I am Contract's legal guardian." He said it as casually as possible, suddenly suspecting that Dragon hadn't told them about this gambit beforehand. Perhaps she'd just said that he wanted to brief the Triumvirate. In light of that possibility, Armsmaster tried to be as straightforward about the situation as he could manage.

He wasn't taking a huge risk by defying the Triumvirate. Of course not. He was just doing his duty in the usual, socially inept way that was expected of him. Armsmaster took as deep a breath as he could manage, to discreetly to calm his nerves, then continued. "And I don't think additional stress would do her any good at this time."

The table was stunned. No one had expected that play, except Dragon, and she had the advantage of being able to transmit any facial expression she wished, regardless of how she actually felt.

Legend recovered first. "I was named Contract's guardian."

Armsmaster turned towards him in fake confusion, "No. Her guardianship was given to her local Protectorate leader." He added a further note bafflement to his tone, and played the one card that might actually force Legend to acknowledge the transfer of authority. "You didn't authorized her removal from the Smiths to the Ward base. I did."

The Triumvirate didn't get to be where they were by being slow. Though Alexandria's thinker rating was only a four, and Eidolon's was of course impossible to pin down, Armsmaster had long been accustomed to mentally assigning a seven rating to each of them. Mostly, this was due to their long experience and significant sources of information. But the way they were looking at him now made him wonder if there wasn't a significant amount of actual power being directed against him at that moment.

His saving grace, what he was counting on, was that he hadn't actually lied yet, and he didn't intend to. It was yet another lesson he'd picked up from Contract, and one he intended to put to good use in her defense.

Miss Militia took up the line effortlessly, and Armsmaster was thankful, again, for all the long hours of patrol they'd done together from the time they were Wards. "If you were supposed to remain Contract's guardian, why was she transferred to Brockton Bay and out of your jurisdiction?"

Having read her file in more depth, Armsmaster was willing to guess that they'd transferred Contract in a transparent attempt to simply shake her up. They'd made next to no progress after more than two weeks of constant observation and careful interaction, so they'd decided to take a risk and see how she would respond to a new team.

It had worked, to an extent. Contract had opened up, yes. But that didn't mean that her new team was willing to roll over like a good dog. Armsmaster was well aware that he might be risking any chance of a future promotion, but he kept hearing something that Dragon had said a few days ago, echoing in his head.

"It's possible to be a hero, but do more harm than good, even accidentally. But with Sophia Hess, it wasn't accidental." They had been discussing Contract's attitude regarding Sophia Hess, the way she had easily seen what others had failed to notice, and Dragon had quoted to him what Contract herself had said during her debriefing. After a moment, Dragon had added, "Do you ever get the feeling that Contract had a lot of experience in being heroic, before she became an actual hero?"

The question had put into words what Armsmaster himself had been struggling to describe in his own thoughts, ever since she had walked into his lab with her cell phone out, and told him that she was an extremely accomplished wordsmith.

Contract was not a conventional hero, not by any means, but something about her conveyed that she sincerely wanted to be heroic and do what she believed was right. It wasn't something he'd given much thought to, after joining the Wards and calling himself a hero. He'd taken for granted that heroes fought villains, and it was his right and responsibility to participate in that fight. "Doing right," on a broader scale, had never occurred to him.

Legend was answering Miss Militia, ignorant of Armsmaster's temporary loss of concentration. "Company believed it would be best for her to be away from New York City and the reminders of the sacrifice she made there."

As much as Contract hated Company, Armsmaster had to give credit where credit was due. The thinker did offer suggestions that seemed to improve her life in the long-run, though he wouldn't want to be the one to say so to her face.

Alexandria redirected the conversation back on track before Armsmaster could figure out how to derail it further by going on a Company tangent. "What do you need to hear to convince you, Armsmaster? I can assure you, we have no interest in pushing Contract into a mental break. But now that the Endbringers have broken their schedule, we have no idea what to expect next. Contract may have information that could save lives."

Dragon answered for him, neatly redirecting the conversation away from Contract once again. "The predictive algorithm doesn't give any indication that another attack is coming, and it was able to predict the Simurgh even outside of our expectations."

Unlike previous tangents, this did kick off a significant discussion. When they came back around to the issue of Contract, Miss Militia raised the possibility of new Endbringers, and whether the algorithm would account for them. More debate ensued.

At nine o'clock, Piggot and Renick excused themselves to deal with administrative tasks which could not be put on hold any longer.

Alexandria used the interruption to pull the conversation back on track, and Armsmaster immediately raised the (all too real) possibility that pressing Contract for answers now might sour future relations with her. At 9:02 AM Clockbocker sent Armsmaster another status update, this one saying that they were back in the Ward's base. At 9:13 AM, the Ward told him that the Triumvirate were welcome to come down, as long as they were willing to meet with all the Wards. Evidently, Contract wanted the moral support of her friends.

It didn't come a moment too soon. As the five of them rode the lift down to the Wards' base, Armsmaster could nearly feel the heavy gazes of the Triumvirate resting on him. On the other hand, Dragon was projecting herself on the inside of his display, smiling smugly, and Miss Militia was standing a little closer than usual in what felt like silent support.

He took that as a sign he was doing something right.


	28. Know Thy Enemy

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: Know Thy Enemy**

 **March 19, 2011**

Clockblocker texted Armsmaster to let him know that Contract was willing to meet with the Triumvirate, as long as the Wards were present as well.

While they waited for the adults to join them, they gathered extra chairs. Kid Win passed out pens and paper so that they could record any suggestions or ideas that couldn't be discussed immediately. Gallant flipped the white board around, both hiding their notes and presenting a clean surface.

Vista and Beetle placed the extra chairs at the end of the table nearest the elevator while the other Wards moved closer together to make room. It set up a sort of us-versus-them feel, but Intrepid might have been overthinking things.

Before anything else could be said, the elevator door opened and expelled five heroes: Armsmaster, Miss Militia, Alexandria, Legend, and Eidolon.

There was really only room for the four seats they'd pulled over, but Armsmaster solved that problem by ignoring the seats all together. Instead, he walked directly to Contract, who had stood up when the elevator arrived.

"Are you okay?" The question should have sounded awkward, because Armsmaster was just standing in front of her and everyone was watching them. Alexandria actually hesitated as she lowered herself into a chair, evidently very interested in Contract's answer.

Contract gave a forced smile. "I've puked, cried, prayed, cussed, and sworn vengeance. Give it 12 hours, and I'll repeat the cycle. But I'm holding up right now." Armsmaster nodded, the movement exaggerated by the lines of his armor, and when Contract sat back down he stood behind her chair, facing the Triumvirate.

Interesting.

Contract took a deep breath. "To be clear, this conversation is to be covered by the Endbringer truce. No knowledge gained here will be used for outside advantage of any kind. No knowledge shared here will be used against us, either."

It was a very interesting way to start a conversation that she predicted would probably include blackmail.

Legend answered her, "I think that's reasonable." None of the other heroes contradicted him. "I know it's difficult, but we need to know more about the cost to destroy another Endbringer."

"Before we begin that part of the conversation, I have two conditions. First, I want to make a contract with everyone here. Everyone will speak honestly. We can each refuse to answer, but we will not lie to one another for the next twenty-four hours. We will not use the truth to purposefully mislead each other."

Intrepid half-expected Contract to simply keep talking: explaining, and convincing. Instead she stopped, stared straight at Legend, and waited. The Triumvirate shared a glance, and then Legend nodded.

"Alright."

Contract moved her gaze to Alexandria. "Alexandria? This contract is only balanced if we all agree of our own free volition."

The heroine seemed pleased at that, and she nodded. "I agree."

"As do I," Eidolon offered.

Contract glanced at Kid Win, seated next to Eidolon, and he nodded. "Of course."

"I agree," Gallant volunteered, and then Contract was meeting Intrepid's eyes directly.

"I trust you," Intrepid swore, trying to convey his willingness to bear this cost and any other she could or would share with him. She wasn't alone.

"I agree," Clockblocker said, and immediately Vista echoed him.

Contract glanced over her shoulder at Armsmaster, who nodded his agreement. When Contract didn't look toward Beetle, he said, "Of course."

Beetle agreed with the same intensity that Intrepid had tried to convey, and then Miss Militia agreed as well. Contract twitched, rolling her neck slightly, and then nodded, satisfied.

She looked back to Legend. "Secondly, I need a more explicit promise from you, Legend." Her tone was much gentler than Intrepid expected, considering her distrust of the hero. "I know that as of 2003 you were a member in an organization that was… distasteful. I need to know whether or not you can speak on their behalf, and whether you can guarantee the safety of those in this room from that organization. If you can't, we really don't have much to discuss."

Miss Militia looked towards Legend sharply and Armsmaster shifted his weight, but none of the Triumvirate reacted to that statement. They didn't even share a glance, which was itself sort of telling. Before Intrepid could try to follow the thought to its logical conclusion, Contract re-stated, "So, knowing that you are protected by the Endbringer truce, can we speak freely, and safely?"

"Yes," Legend said, but it sounded hoarse. "How did you…"

Contract's jaw clenched, but she answered calmly, almost respectfully, "I don't think that's a conversation you want to have right now, with witnesses, even given the truce."

Legend shifted uncomfortably, but Alexandria was the one who spoke. "If we are to have an honest discussion, I think it's important to put our cards on the table. Even distasteful ones."

Contract stared at her, weighing something. In fact, Intrepid realized, she was weighing a scathing, biting answer, and forcing herself not to say it.

After a very long moment, Legend finally said, "It's alright, Contract. Please, how did you come to know about… that organization."

Contract looked away from Alexandria, swallowing whatever she hadn't said, and pierced Legend with her gaze instead. "I was kidnapped, drugged, experimented on, and tortured for four weeks. It started with a vial of black muck, which did absolutely nothing when they gave it to me. After it failed, the real pain began."

The words hit Legend like a physical blow, but she didn't stop. Instead, she continued in her fake-polite tone, like she was discussing the weather. "When I was kidnapped, I took a blow to the head and was temporarily deaf, but that wore off after day five. By that time, my torturers were accustomed to talking and thinking I couldn't hear, and I was so focused on my pain that I never reacted to what they discussed."

Miss Militia was looking green, and Armsmaster's jaw was clenched so hard there was a vein twitching in his neck.

Contract just kept up her steady, even tone. "And do you know what I overheard? Names. Plans. Details. How to make capes. How to fail to make capes. But mostly, they were talking about you. They said you were starting to doubt the _mission_ , and that they had to find a way to keep you in line. I didn't stick around long enough to find out what they decided."

Other than a moment of disdain on the word mission, Contract's voice never wavered. 2003 was eight years ago, before she'd triggered, and she had been… shit. She'd been eight years old.

"One of the other prisoners triggered very powerfully. All hands on deck were called to handle, subdue, and control the situation. I took the opportunity provided by the chaos to escape. But I remembered what I had heard, and I remembered your name. And I started looking for answers. You know what I found?"

For the first time, Contract's voice quivered. "A lot of _corpses_. Everyone who really tried to track down details vanished, or died accidentally, or died bloody. Every time someone called to say they had a name, or a location, I'd arrive and find them burned or dismembered. I don't know exactly how your organization does it, but somehow, you find people who are going to be a problem and you kill them. So I ask again, are we safe?"

Shockingly, Legend had regained his equilibrium. If anything, he seemed even more steady now, like hearing that had given him new determination. "I have no reason to believe we'd be in danger."

Intrepid's stomach dropped when Legend failed to refute her accusations. The leader of the Protectorate was party to kidnapping, torture, and murder. But Legend didn't give the audience any time to adjust as he continued. "But why even bring it up?"

Through his horror, Intrepid acknowledged that it was a fair question. Where did this tie into the Endbringers? Was it worth the risk to even discuss it?

"Because," Contract returned, calm and polite once more, "I think _that organization_ is the most likely culprit for the creation of the Endbringers."

You could have heard a pin drop.

In fact, Beetle, who had picked up a pen to write a note, dropped it and it clattered off the table to the floor. She didn't move to retrieve it. No one moved for a long moment.

"Creation?" Alexandria asked, sounding skeptical.

Contract leaned back in her chair, forehead furrowed. "Of course." She glanced around the table, then sat up sharply, turning towards Armsmaster. "You didn't know?" She immediately turned back to the Triumvirate. "You really didn't know. Huh."

No one spoke, but a lot of glances were exchanged. Intrepid welcomed the full onset of shock gratefully. This was going to be a case of Contract blowing everyone's minds, and he wanted to remember every detail. Contract broke the silence, addressing Alexandria. "We… _I…_ always assumed that you were keeping details from the public to prevent panic. But you really didn't know."

Alexandria was starting to look pissed at Contract's vague speculations, so it was a good thing that Contract took that moment to start explaining. "From the start we had two basic sets of theories about the Endbringers, and it came down to one simple fact. Either they started out human, or they didn't. After dealing with Behemoth I can say with absolute certainty: they are not alive, and they were never human."

Contract paused, like this was supposed to be enlightening, and Alexandria growled out the question that was on Intrepid's mind. "Which means what, exactly?"

"It means that they're a construct or projection of some sort, which implies that they came from a parahuman. A disaster of this magnitude requires the prerequisite of _significant_ power. The sort of power that could create an unbeatable precognition, to eliminate an organization's enemies. The sort of power that could create a member of the Triumvirate.

"The sort of power that could _accidentally_ create a cape that ate the boundaries of the multiverse, allowing the chaos for me to escape. The sort of power that could manage to eventually _contain_ such a cape. That sort of power, in the hands of mad scientists? Seems like the most likely suspect for the creation of the Endbringers."

"With what motive?" Miss Militia asked. Honestly, that wasn't Intrepid's biggest question, but okay, they could take the conversation in that direction.

Suddenly reminded of the paper, Intrepid jotted down _Fi's contracts created by org? Inherently powerful? Advantage in same source?_

Contract shrugged. "Accident. Mad Science. Who knows? My point is that they're the best candidate for having the means and opportunity. And given that _something_ kills their enemies very reliably, I want to make sure we are even capable of having a discussion about erasing the Endbringers. Because if they didn't create them on accident they might have created them for a purpose, and I have no interest in marking us all for slaughter."

"Rest assured," Legend spoke, sounding like a surprisingly normal human being and not a member of an organization that tortured children, "that organization wants the Endbringers gone."

"But you won't say if they had a hand in creating them?" Beetle replied, with far more courage than Intrepid himself had. The Triumvirate didn't react as strongly to a Ward challenging one of their own as Intrepid would have expected. Maybe they all just had very good poker faces.

"I have no reason to believe that the Endbringers were created by that organization," Legend returned calmly. Intrepid hated the hero for not showing the slightest contrition, but he also had to admire the sheer audacity.

"What makes you so sure they are created?" Alexandria asked, looking disturbed by the very idea.

Contract didn't answer immediately, her jaw working while she thought about her answer. "The nature of my power is such that when I am creating a contract, I am extremely aware of the potential costs at my fingertips. Whether it be my own metabolism, an electrical source, a behavioral sacrifice… it's like another sense that opens up."

Contract's tone was so carefully reigned in, that Intrepid was afraid of what she would say next. "And always, in the back of my head, is the knowledge of the one price I will _never_ pay. If I was evil, I would have the choice of using life-force to power my contracts. Human sacrifice. Not just physical murder, of which I am capable, but a soul-level annihilation of anyone or everyone within my radius. Behemoth didn't qualify as a possible sacrifice. Ergo, he was not alive on that level, and was never human."

All the color had drained out of Miss Militia's face now. Intrepid forced himself to focus on Contract, not on the rest of the table. His own stomach wasn't queasy or disgusted. Instead, he felt an incredible sadness for Contract. Every time she accessed her powers, she opened herself up to a glimpse of how bad she could go, if she ever made a mistake.

Intrepid had lost control in more than one fight. He'd shot his stun-gun again and again, even after an opponent was down. He'd plowed straight into opponents with everything he had, blinded by rage and battle. Before he triggered, he'd once punched a kid in school, putting his whole swing into it. If he'd been powered at the time, he might have broken the bully's jaw or even killed him.

But Contract had never, and could never, allow herself to be out of control. If she did, if she ever said 'to hell with it' or became unspeakably enraged… she would level city blocks.

Contract glanced over at him, met his gaze, and he remembered her words from that morning. It would be so easy for her to kill herself. Was her own soul one that she saw every time that sense activated?

Intrepid wanted to speak, to say anything, but there was nothing he could think of that she would want others to hear. In his mind, he thought _what happened, when you triggered, and traded the lives of five men? What did that truly cost you? What did it buy?_ But he didn't write it down. It was a question he might never ask, and he would certainly never bring it up here.

Finally, it was Alexandria who broke the silence. Bloody thinker. "Is this the cost you referred to previously? The evil you refused to name?"

Contract shrugged, sitting back in her seat, arms crossed in front of herself, folding herself away. Her tone was quiet, not with calm but with resignation. "Yes and no. With enough Death I could do anything. Even destroy the Simurgh. And I do consider that to be evil. But at the time I made the claim I wasn't thinking of a particular cost, only trying to get you to understand its magnitude."

"Then why bring us down here?" Alexandria pressed. Armsmaster shifted behind Contract, and Intrepid realized he'd been quiet a long time. Somehow, Contract had a way of interacting with the Triumvirate that did not invite intervention.

Even now, she spoke rather than letting Armsmaster answer. "I hoped you would know things about the Endbringers you weren't telling. With more information, I thought we might be able to find a solution. But you're just as blind as I am."

"Not necessarily," Armsmaster rumbled. "Ignorance about their origins does not mean total blindness."

Contract nodded thoughtfully. "What _do_ you know about the Endbringers?"

The Triumvirate shared a glance. It was obvious that they were a well-oiled team, just from observing their very efficient non-verbal communication. Eventually, Alexandria was elected to speak.

"Their powers are very well known to the public. What sort of information are you looking for?"

"Underlying patterns. Non-obvious connections. The Endbringers are undoubtedly linked, which means the same source has produced firepower ranging from manipulative precognition to nuclear inhalation and is using it to play dress-up."

A glance around the table showed the rest of the Wards were as confused as he was. Dress up? The Endbringers? Contract sighed and elaborated.

"Don't get me wrong, the Endbringers are a terrifying threat. My question is why aren't they an _extinction event_? Barring that question, even more mundane answers might help. How do they communicate with each other? Where does the matter come from, to create them? What underlying truths hold true to all three, and what can we infer from that data?"

The Triumvirate were looking disappointed. Alexandria shook her head. "You might as well ask why haven't they all attacked together? Why do they rotate and coordinate schedules?"

Fi nodded emphatically. "Sure. That would work, too. Why are they going easy?"

Intrepid could already see where her logic was headed. "You think if we can figure out what's holding them back, we can trade directly for that, and let the schedule be a by-product."

"It's the best idea I've had yet. Either that, or we need to find some other universal "Endbringer trait" that we can turn into a weakness."

Alexandria and Legend exchanged a long glance, and then Legend spoke. "I don't know what might be holding them back. Believe me, we've spent a great deal of time and power into trying to find the answer, but never with any success. As for common traits, one does come to mind immediately. They're able to shield themselves from precogs."

"Including whichever cape is protecting your organization," Contract mused aloud, reading the underlying message. Intrepid wondered if she was avoiding the name on purpose, or if she didn't know it.

Very grudgingly, Legend nodded. Contract was quiet while she thought about the new information, so it was Beetle who asked the first question. "Does this precog have other blind spots?"

Legend opened his mouth, then shut it. Contract smirked, shifting in her chair. Intrepid opened his mouth to say it wasn't important, to try to diffuse the situation before Contract said something she might regret, but found he couldn't get the words out. After a long moment, he realized that the reassurance was a lie, because he _did_ think this mysterious organization and its precog were important, and so he couldn't get the words out.

Intrepid snapped his jaw shut and glanced at Legend. Had the hero also tried and failed to lie?

Contract seemed to think so, because she re-worded the question. " _What_ other blind spots does this precog have?"

"I decline to answer that question," Legend responded instantly, and Contract winced, but waved a hand in acknowledgement.

"Fine. That's your right." She rubbed at her temples, thinking.

It was then that Eidolon finally decided to join the conversation. "Regardless, there is no proof that the gaps in the vision of a single precog are all related."

Intrepid had noticed before that Eidolon's physical presence belied the power at his disposal, but right now the hero's voice was duller than normal. He was easily overshadowed by his teammates, by Contract, even by Armsmaster's imposing armor. For the second most powerful cape in the world, he was almost small. Intrepid glanced at Contract, and mentally revised his statement. One of the top three, anyway.

Legend nodded, but didn't verbally agree with his teammate.

"Protected from precogs. Never human. Not really living…" Contract mused aloud. "What else?"

"Maybe we're looking at this the wrong way," Beetle offered, twisting to look directly at Contract and putting her back to the Triumvirate. "What one piece of information would be the most helpful, moving forward? Not just for your power, but for the Protectorate as a whole?"

"Their origin," Alexandria answered immediately. Then she tacked on, "Assuming that they are actually being generated, somehow."

Beetle nodded. "We don't have enough juice to kill an Endbringer. But can we get an answer to that question?"

Contract looked thoughtful, and though Eidolon started to speak up, Alexandria waved him off.

"We'd only get one shot," Contract said eventually, staring into space. "One chance to ask the question exactly the right way to get useable intel."

"What is the root cause of the Endbringers?" Vista proposed immediately. Contract shook her head.

"That has way too many answers. You could say 'a cape' or 'capes in general' or 'powers'. At best, you might end up getting the root cause of all powers as an answer, but that most likely won't help against the Endbringers."

"What about, 'what is the direct cause of the creation of the Endbringers?'" Clockblocker offered. The Triumvirate seemed content to let the Wards talk, at least for now.

"Use manifestation instead, in case they're not actually created but are sort of spontaneously occurring. I know you don't think it's likely, but let's not take chances," Kid Win said.

Gallant was writing on the whiteboard as Beetle spoke up, "Describe the most direct cause of the manifestation of the Endbringers in such a way that the people in this room will be able to recognize it."

That was better, but not perfect. Intrepid closed the loophole even as he saw it, "Recognize it and not mistake or confuse it with someone or something else."

There was a moment of silence, then the Wards all looked at Contract. "That will take all the collateral of the accelerated timeline, as well as all the extra energy I have stored. But it can be done." She looked toward the Triumvirate.

"Anything to add?"

They looked at each other, but slowly each shook their head. Contract nodded, turned to look straight at Armsmaster. "Sir?"

Intrepid noticed both Legend and Alexandria shift when Contract showed respect to Armsmaster. Were they pleased to see that she at least looked up to one Protectorate hero, or did the contrast make it abundantly clear how disrespectful her behavior was with them?

Armsmaster didn't answer immediately. "Would it be better to wait and use this leverage for something else?" he finally asked. Contract gave the question several seconds of thought.

"I'm not entirely certain that we're going to have another opportunity for us all to be gathered in one place, speaking civilly. If the origin of the Endbringers turns out to be actionable intelligence, this might be the best possible platform for it to be revealed."

Armsmaster nodded thoughtfully, and read out the agreement that Gallant had written on the board, changing it as he did so. "Describe the most direct cause of the manifestation of the Endbringers. Do so in such a way (a) as to be recognizable with the people and resources available in this room and (b) as to avoid confusion, misinterpretation, false identification, or mistakes."

Contract nodded back, so respectfully that it might have been a salute. Then she simply said, "May it be so."

There was a gust of air, and one of the blank pages that Kid Win had put on the table was picked up by the wind. The page flipped end over end a couple times, and landed in front of Contract. She picked it up, and stared at it. She looked at Armsmaster, but he shook his head. Then she stared at the Triumvirate, and handed the page to Beetle.

"If you would do the honors."

Beetle cleared her throat, and read, "David."

There was a collective silence as everyone held their breath. Beetle looked up in confusion. "That's all it says. Just David."

Contract was still staring at the Triumvirate. Slowly, the hairs on Intrepid's arms were starting to stand up. The tension in the air was quite literally a physical phenomenon.

"I know that none of my teammates are named David," Contract said. She didn't raise her voice, but something in her tone was terrifying. "And even more tellingly, for the second time this morning, you three didn't so much as glance at each other. Earlier, you _didn't_ glance at each other when I revealed my past with a particular organization, so that corruption is wider spread than I believed."

Intrepid had heard voices described as dripping with contempt. But he had never before heard such a voice for himself. Contract continued, "And now, a second, time, you are carefully not making eye contact. You know who David is. You each know that the others also know, otherwise you'd be verifying. So I'm only going to ask once. _Who is David_?"

Adrenaline was pumping through Intrepid's bloodstream. His body was entering fight-or-flight mode, even though his teammate hadn't actually moved yet. But he could see the tension in Contract's posture, and hear her struggle for control over her voice and emotions.

"We will handle this situation. Your help has been much appreciated," Alexandria said coolly, standing up.

Contract was on her feet before the rest of the Triumvirate could stand, and she brought her hand down on the conference table with a ringing **CRACK**.

"Sit. Down." Contract growled out. Alexandria gave her a contemptuous look, and Contract repeated herself. "Sit down, Rebecca, because you _will not like_ what I do if you refuse."

Intrepid felt cold fear wash over him as the two women engaged in a staring contest. Contract knew Alexandria's secret identity. Knew it, and was using it as blackmail, despite what she'd told Clockblocker. Unless her secret identity was itself somehow illegal?

His brain abandoned the question when he realized - again - what was happening. She was actually blackmailing one of the ten strongest people in the world. It was one thing to talk about it, and another to sit and watch it occur.

Nobody moved while the two powerhouses just stared at each other, until Eidolon finally spoke up. "Are you absolutely certain that this is the truth?" The hero sounded… depressed. Defeated.

"Yes." Contract didn't glance away from Alexandria. "I have complete and total confidence that the information provided is the completely accurate answer to the question we asked."

Eidolon's shoulders slumped, and what little air of heroism he'd had seemed to fade. It was bizarre to watch, particularly when Intrepid had seen him in action, fighting seven or ten villains single-handedly.

"Eidolon," Alexandria started to say, sounding… comforting? Coaxing? It was a much warmer tone than any other he'd heard from her, anyway.

"No, Alexandria," Eidolon cut her off. Despite his slumped posture, his tone was actually growing stronger. "Facts are facts."

Alexandria gaped at her teammate while he, in turn, sat up a little straighter and met Contract's gaze. "I am David."

Intrepid's brain sort of froze at that, while he tried to assimilate it. Eidolon, the hero, the Triumvirate hero, the hero who had been leading the Houston Protectorate from day one… was responsible for the Endbringers? Was their source? Their most direct source?

Considering the oath of vengeance that Contract had sworn, Intrepid did not expect her to react to that information by sinking slowly back into her chair. With a huff, Alexandria also sat back down. But instead of looking furious, Contract was looking at Eidolon in a way that was _calculating_.

When she spoke, it was surprisingly calm. "Ever since I learned about your powers, I've always been disappointed. And after I got my own powers, I think it's safe to say that I actually hated you. You can choose any power in the world, and yet you spend very, very little time as a healer." Silence met this confession, as everyone tried to figure out where Contract was going with it. "You could have saved millions of people, but you chose not to."

Contract took a deep breath. "Or so I always assumed. But the paper didn't say that Eidolon, the powered alter-ego is the most direct cause. It says that David, the man, is the most direct cause. You don't actually control your power, do you?"

Eidolon was looking down and didn't speak. Instead, Legend answered for his teammate. "Eidolon is given whatever powers he subconsciously needs at the moment."

Contract gave a jerky nod, looking sick. The dread was growing in his stomach, and Intrepid had to spit the truth out before it choked him.

"Are you saying that Eidolon, the Triumvirate hero, subconsciously produced the Endbringers that have killed nearly a billion people? It was all some big accident?"

Eidolon flinched. For a moment, Intrepid wasn't sure if he felt small, in the face of this betrayal, or twenty feet tall, that he could bring Eidolon to flinching. He heard his own words, again, and just felt sick.

"More importantly," Alexandria cut in, glaring at Contract, "what can we do about it? You were so eager to find the source. What good does this information produce?"

"Well there is the obvious solution, which at least would prevent the creation of _more_ abominations."

Intrepid felt distantly that he should have been shocked or appalled that Contract's first suggestion was deadly force. Instead, he just felt a quiet sense of satisfaction at the thought that somebody had to pay for all the people they hadn't been fast enough to save from Behemoth.

"Unacceptable," Alexandria replied.

"It's one death in the face of billions!" Contract shot back.

"And what about the ones that are still out there? How long will we last without Eidolon to fight them?" Legend put in.

"Assuming that they don't pop like soap bubbles when he dies?" Beetle asked hopefully, but Contract shook her head.

"No. Behemoth was closer to Nilbog's creations than the Siberian projection. The Endbringers aren't human, not living exactly, but they are physical manifestations. They aren't being actively sustained by his power or life-force. Directed, maybe, but not sustained."

"Wait, the Siberian's not a person?" Clockblocker asked, at the same time that Armsmaster snapped out, "When were you in contact with _Nilbog_?"

Contract looked startled. "Of course the Siberian's not a person. It's a cape projection." She glanced around the table and seemed to realize that this was news to everyone else, even the Triumvirate, if Intrepid was reading this facial expressions correctly.

"Okaaay, you didn't know that either," Contract acknowledged, reluctantly. "That's not important right now. The point is that killing Eidolon probably won't kill the existing Endbringers. But since we don't know how many more might be possible, letting him live _is_ a decisive risk."

"Can we restrain the power in a less drastic manner?" Miss Militia asked, eying the Triumvirate carefully.

"You mean like neutralizing his powers?" Vista suggested.

"Or locking them down." Miss Militia corrected her. "If we made a list of ten very explicit powers for his subconscious to choose between, and Endbringer generation wasn't on the list, that would keep more from being made."

Eidolon looked up at the suggestion, but Gallant scoffed and answered, "At what cost?"

Contract waved her hand distractedly. "Before we even ask that question there's the fact of the Endbringers already in existence."

"Can you turn them off?" Kid Win asked Eidolon directly. "Destroy them, or order them not to attack?"

"It's a subconscious power," Intrepid pointed out, fighting to remind himself of the same thing. Eidolon had not intentionally murdered billions of people. He couldn't have. "If he didn't know he was doing it, telling him so doesn't change whatever subconscious issue manifested them in the first place."

"Therapy?" Gallant suggested.

"And how long would that take?" Vista asked scathingly, staring at Eidolon hatefully.

"If we can't deal with the subconscious issue," Beetle suggested, "can we change the power so it's directed by his conscious control? Let him control his powers, and consciously direct the Endbringers?"

Contract physically flinched at that, jerking abruptly. "Damn it," she whispered.

Alexandria leaned forward eagerly. "Is that a yes?"

Contract resumed her earlier death-glare. "Can I further empower an asshole of a man who is responsible for hundreds of millions of deaths, including the death of Ashland Texas? Can I put that sort of firepower in the conscious control of an individual who knew his teammate was part of an abominable organization, and is likely a member of that same organization himself?"

Contract's voice and tone escalated as she worked herself into a righteous fury. "Can I further arm a man who is clearly psychotic? His own subconscious desires resulted in the sinking of not one, not two, but _three countries_!"

She stood up, leaning on the table, pressing forward, while her voice dropped in volume but not intensity. "Can I put into his hands the ability to _destroy the world_ , on the mere _hope_ that he decides not to use it? Can I trust him to use this new power to dismantle the Endbringers, and not to create another ten just for _kicks_?"

With a sigh of disgust, she dropped into her seat. At the same time, Eidolon's whole body spasmed so hard that he fell out of his chair. She dropped her head down, staring at her hands.

"I just did," she whispered, voice full of self-loathing. "Now get out."

For a long second, no one moved. Then Contract looked up, tears streaming down her face, and said, "Leave us the hell alone."

Something in her face or manner convinced the Triumvirate to obey. They stood and walked cautiously to the elevator, which opened immediately. As they left, Contract crossed her arms on the table, put her head down, and wept.

Intrepid hardly noticed their departure, because he was focused not on what Contract had said, but _how_ she said it. Judging by her cadence, Contract was deaf.


	29. Aftermath

**AN:** Happy Thanksgiving to those of you in the USA! Thanks again to SlowMercury who took time out of her holidays to edit this chapter!

 **Chapter Twenty-Nine: Aftermath**

 **March 19, 2011**

There was a moment of silence, as the elevator doors closed, and then it seemed that everyone burst into motion at the same time. Beetle reached around Miss Militia to get to Contract, and her hug dislodged Armsmaster's armored hand, which was already resting on Contract's shoulder.

Intrepid found himself cursing the decision to sit across the table from Fi, and immediately used his power to go over the obstacle, rather than around. Taylor had pulled Fi half out of her seat by the time Jason landed, but she seemed to realize, as she hugged her, that the armor plating wasn't comfortable.

When Taylor hesitated, Jason reached out and pulled Fi into his chest, wrapping his arms around her securely. Fi returned the hug, head down, and Jason realized that she was purposefully blocking out the world. Without her hearing, with her eyes closed, she wasn't getting any input except from his own body language.

With that in mind, he kept his eyes open and alert, even though he didn't expect trouble. Taylor reached out a hand and rested it on her shoulder, but Fi didn't show any response.

All this happened in the first few seconds.

Then Dennis was there, just behind Taylor, locking eyes with Jason. He was offering to freeze Fi, if he thought it would help, but Jason shook his head as slightly as he could so as not to disturb Fi. They were lucky that she hadn't noticed what had happened last night. They did not need to tempt fate.

Missy was hovering just behind Taylor, seemingly looking for a chance to show her support, but neither Jason nor Taylor intended to move. Fi was gripping the back of his uniform as hard as anyone ever had, holding herself tight against him, and trembling slightly.

Dean had his hands on his temples, with his head bowed, and Chris was standing next to him, patting the power armor, offering his silent support.

Fi had been nearly broken after erasing Behemoth, and had held herself together with determination and bluffing. Now she had destroyed, or at least controlled, the remaining Endbringers. What could she possibly have given?

Armsmaster murmured quietly, "Dragon reports that the Simurgh just vanished. There's no sign of Behemoth or Leviathan, though that's not unusual. It looks like it worked."

Armsmaster sounded almost apologetic as he said it, as though he knew that the success wouldn't be enough to soften the blow Fi had taken. Savings millions, perhaps even billions, of lives was worth any cost _abstractly_. But Fi had said it herself: the human brain was bad at multiplication. And saving the world wouldn't change whatever cost that she now had to pay.

Jason swallowed. "She can't hear you."

Fi's breath caught as he spoke, and he realized that with her pressed against him, she might be able to feel the vibration of his voice even though she was deaf. He expected her to lean back, to read his lips or ask what he had said, but instead she buried her face deeper into his shirt and her hands on his back pulled the stretchable material even tighter.

"What?" Miss Militia asked, though none of the Wards looked surprised. Perhaps they had heard what he did, or perhaps they were just accustomed to Fi being randomly deaf.

"She's deaf," Jason explained, hugging Fi more tightly in response. "You can hear it in her voice, if you listen for it. She can't hear us right now."

"Sir?" Dennis asked, addressing Armsmaster. "I know this is _so_ not the right time, but… this morning, there was a lot of high tension around Contract and the Simurgh attack. Especially in the media. We should release some sort of statement about what just happened, before things get even more out of hand."

A week ago, Jason might have been upset that Dennis was thinking of press coverage with Fi falling apart in front of them. Instead, he found himself grateful that someone on the team was thinking long-term, while he handled the immediate crisis. It was weird, to realize that he thought of the Wards, the Brockton Bay Wards, as his team.

Had it happened last night over pizza, when the girls were singing, or later when they shared stories about trigger events? Had it been when they watched a man get shot? Perhaps after they agreed to blackmail the Triumvirate? Or was it when they all reeled under the glimpse of the crimes committed by their heroes?

Had it happened just moments ago, when they figured out how to destroy the Endbringers?

Shit. Listed out like that, the team had had a hectic twelve hours.

"Surely the Triumvirate will handle it," Miss Militia said.

"Before or after they torture more innocent girls?" Missy asked, turning her scathing anger on Miss Militia now that the Triumvirate were unavailable.

"Missy," Dean interjected, calling her up short before Miss Militia could respond, "We clearly don't know the whole story there, yet." Then, before Missy could bristle, he turned to Armsmaster. "She's right though. If even half of what was implied is true, we can't let Eidolon and his teammates get the first word in. We need to announce what happened and make it clear this was _Contract's_ success."

"Is Glenn still in the building?" Dennis asked. Armsmaster nodded.

"He went back to his hotel." His tone was… impressed? Perhaps Armsmaster approved of a team that stuck up for each other. Either that or he agreed with their cynical assessment of the situation. How much had Fi told him before today?

Dennis nodded decisively. "Kid Win, Vista, take Miss Militia and go find Glenn. Get a press release written immediately and figure out a strategy. Try to corral PHO about the Simurgh attack too. I'll call J and B and set up an interview, so call me as soon as we have a Glenn-approved party line. We can't tell the truth. Throwing Eidolon under the bus will bring the Triumvirate down on our heads, and it would have a huge backlash against all parahumans. Figure out what our story is and then let us all know. If that's alright with you, sir?"

Dennis issued marching orders like he was born to it, and Armsmaster approved them with a nod. Fi was still shaking against Jason's shirt, and he thought he might be able to detect a wetness that meant tears.

"Have J and B come here," Taylor offered. "If Contract swings into calm territory again, she might talk to them. She hates when other people talk for her. I'm not saying we wait for her to recover and risk not getting in front of this thing, but if she's up for it we should give her ever opportunity to speak for herself."

Dennis nodded his agreement as the three gathered their things and left.

"Are you sure she's deaf?" Dean asked, cautious. Jason nodded. Fi wasn't reacting to anything going on in the room, and he was sure that she would if she could hear it.

Dean nodded once, sharply, then reported: "She's finally hit the kind of grief I expected last night. Defeated, surrendered, sickening grief."

"For how long?" Dennis asked, taking his helmet off to massage his temples. "This morning she went from puking to praying in less than an hour."

"The problem with grief is that the world keeps turning without you," Taylor said with a sigh. "Sometimes you can keep up, sometimes you can't but you want to try, and sometimes you just don't care."

"Is it any surprise it's hitting her?" Jason asked. "Who knows what she just did to herself."

Dennis opened his mouth to answer Intrepid, then seemed to think better of whatever he was going to say.

Armsmaster wasn't so cautious. "The sooner we answer that question, the sooner we can help her." Reflectively, Jason squeezed Fi just a little bit tighter and Fi squeezed him back in response, but didn't raise her head.

"If she'll share with us, great," Dennis asserted. "If she doesn't want it spread around, then anyone she does tell can give the rest of us general advice. At least for now. And the suicide watch stays."

Jason nodded his agreement as the others murmured theirs. It wasn't ideal, but it was better to be safe rather than sorry.

"Is anyone going to mention the rest of what happened today?" Taylor asked, cautiously. Dennis and Armsmaster shared a look, but didn't respond. After a moment, Taylor elaborated. "Legend didn't refute what she accused him of."

"But he was surprised," Dean said, shifting from foot to foot. "Not just surprised that she'd been a victim, I mean. He was surprised throughout her entire description. Then he got pissed, and determined, and finally he shoved it all aside and sort of re-focused on the Endbringers. But he was shocked and pissed when David's name came up. Actually, Alexandria and Eidolon were both less surprised than Legend, throughout the whole encounter."

"Even if it _is_ true, we really can't do anything," Dennis pointed out. "For one, they evidently have some sort of precognition on their side. As soon as we resolve to do anything, they'll know and they can get to us. Or they'll know ahead of time that we're going to resolve to be an issue, and then they'll know and get to us."

"Plus Eidolon just got a serious power upgrade," Taylor said. "Putting the Endbringers aside, assuming that he's not a complete psychopath, if his powers were only under subconscious control before I fear what damage he could do now that he's in full control."

"So we act like we heard nothing?" Dean asked, looking lost.

"For the foreseeable future, yes," Armsmaster said grimly. Jason figured finding a way to block precognition just shot to the top of the hero's to-do list. Assuming that the power in question couldn't just see that coming, of course.

Fi's shaking was slowly subsiding, and Dean must have picked up on her emotions or on Jason's anticipation, because he waved for quiet.

Fi pulled back slowly, not looking up, as she wiped at her eyes. Dean held out a tissue box, and Fi shied away towards Taylor, until she recognized the box and her teammate. Being deaf was putting a dent in her situation awareness.

When she was a little more in control, she looked up at Jason, then around the room in embarrassment. "Sorry, I…"

Taylor moved her hand from Fi's back to her shoulder, turning her so they were more face-to-face. "Don't be ridiculous. You're entitled to as many tears as you need. You don't have any reason to be embarrassed, or sorry."

Fi nodded, and glanced around at each of their faces, a slight frown passing over her face when she looked at Dean. Jason realized that with Gallant's full body armor, she couldn't see his mouth. Taylor's was protected by the mandibles, but when facing front-on her mouth was visible. But Fi had no way of knowing what Dean was saying, if anything at all.

Jason lay a hand on her arm, catching her attention, so that he could say, "Let us help. Anything at all."

She wrapped her arms around herself defensively, as she replied. "I'm just… scattered."

Jason swallowed, and knew that if she wanted to explain her cost, she already would have. If she wasn't going to bring it up, she probably wasn't ready to talk about it yet. Even so, maybe she would answer a related question. "Can we do anything to mitigate your cost?"

She offered him a thin smile, but shook her head. "What's done is done."

Jason turned that phrase over his mind for a moment before he really understood what she was implying. "It's not an ongoing cost?"

"No. I couldn't have done it at all if I wasn't focused on how much it would help Eidolon. If it was ongoing, then the first time I calmed down the contract would have swung out of balance and undone itself."

"You're deaf," Jason said cautiously, watching her reaction for any sign of which emotion would be coming next.

She nodded sharply, inhaled deeply, and in a very controlled tone said, "And now I always will be."

He flinched, and saw Taylor flinch over Fi's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Fi shrugged, looking down at her hands, then looking back up at his face abruptly. Jason forcefully kept his expression neutral. She couldn't even give normal social cues like breaking eye contact without rendering herself even more handicapped. She _had_ to look at him, just in case he spoke. "It's done," she said, trying to sound casual.

"What else?" Armsmaster asked, but Jason didn't repeat the question. Fi would not like being pushed on this, not right now.

He tried to think of what she would want to do, but all he could come up with was sleeping. He couldn't think of a good way to offer her a nap at ten in the morning. Taylor rescued him by touching her shoulder, drawing Fi's attention.

When Fi was looking at her, Taylor asked, "Do you want to go back to church? Get out of the base for a bit?"

Fi shook her head dejectedly, and Dean hissed in surprise. Jason carefully didn't turn to look at him, and Taylor managed not to react at all. Fi didn't need it rubbed in her face that her emotions were on display, even if Dean was her teammate.

"No, I… I don't want to interact with strangers right now."

"Okay." Taylor took a deep breath, bracing herself for whatever she was going to ask next, "I know you can't go home for Ash's funeral, but do you want to do something here, alone or with some of us, to commemorate him?"

Fi grew thoughtful, and mentally Jason thanked whoever might be listening for Taylor. She was going to be a godsend to the entire team, while they tried not to stumble too badly through the mess that was Fi's grief. After another moment, Fi nodded, and Taylor offered her a small smile. "Come on," she said, pulling Fi towards the Wards' dorms. "Let's see what we can come up with."

* * *

Commemoration preparations kept Fi and Taylor mutually occupied for close to two hours. Mostly, it consisted of Taylor making suggestions, and Fi turning them down. Then Fi would start to tell a story, and realize halfway through that the story revealed something about her family or past that she wanted to keep secret. So the story would trail off, and Taylor would move onto the next idea without a single question.

Jason watched this interaction, noticing the way Taylor managed to keep Fi talking and taking mental notes. He also kept his phone close at hand but out of the direct line-of-sight of the girls, who were sitting on Taylor's bed. In this way, he was able to text with Armsmaster, Dennis, and the rest of the team and keep them posted without disturbing the girls.

The news from the press team was actually pretty positive: it had evidently taken longer to swear Glenn to secrecy, convince him to sign paperwork, and explain the events of the afternoon, with significant holes, than it had for him to start suggesting cover stories.

The final version went something like this: Fi had not attended the Simurgh attack because she hadn't been cleared for duty on account of her recent upheaval from moving to a new city. When she heard that her uncle had been killed in the Simurgh attack (the cover version of Ash's death, which had evidently been a lie Chris told to Glenn, and not one Glenn invented) she had a second trigger event. Eidolon and the rest of the Triumvirate had come to Brockton Bay to talk to Armsmaster about the prediction algorithm. When Eidolon and Contract had run into each other, Eidolon's power gave him a dynokinesis that was similar to Behemoth's, but not quite the same. With this power, they were able to work together and eliminate the rest of the Endbringers, but without the mass-conversation-city-healing effects.

It wasn't a bad story overall. It did give credit to Eidolon, but that was necessary on several levels. First, they had to cast the Triumvirate in a good light, so that they would go along with the story. At the same time, it gave Eidolon a vested interest in keeping the Endbringers gone, to balance whatever messed up psychology had manifested them to begin with.

That Eidolon had vanished the Endbringers was becoming truly apparent: no one anywhere in the world could find any trace of any of them. While not entirely impossible, it was unusual, particularly in the case of the Simurgh who had vanished out from under direct observation.

Armsmaster, Dennis, and Dragon had discussed the possible reasons and implications at some length, but hadn't reached any firm conclusions. Jason was waiting until Fi asked about the Endbringers to see if she knew anything about what had happened.

It was bad luck that Fi and Taylor went back to the main conference room at the same time that Chris and Missy returned to change into their "media" costumes. Immediately, Fi guessed where they had been and demanded to know the concocted story.

Glenn turned up looking for the Wards around the same time they had finished telling her the final version, and Fi whirled on Glenn with a fire that none of them expected.

"I am getting in front of those cameras."

Everyone froze. "Contract," Glenn said cautiously, and then he amended, "Fi, you can't tell the truth."

She snorted. "Obviously. I have no wish to cross Eidolon and his pet precog. But this is our best shot at putting a set of reins on him. I _will_ do this."

"You're deaf," Armsmaster pointed out, "can you even do an interview?"

"I can," Fi answered immediately, which surprised Jason because he hadn't expected her to even notice that Armsmaster was talking. His helmet did expose his mouth, but it was shadowed at best.

There was a bit more arguing, but in the end Fi proved to be more stubborn than the rest of them. It probably helped that Jason and Taylor were of the opinion that if Fi wanted to do this and thought she could handle it, then it was her judgment call to make.

The reporters were eager to do an interview, even if it meant coming to the PRT base to do it.

* * *

Just before the red recording light clicked on, Fi's spine straightened and her shoulders dropped into a more relaxed posture. Either she was a much better actor than Jason had previous seen reason to believe, or she was so focused on the interview that she was actually able to block out everything else for the moment.

Either way, Jason marked the behavior, even as Contract spoke, taking the opening statement out of the hands of the reporters.

"Hello again, Bobby, Julie." She nodded at each of the ladies, then nodded towards the camera, silently including the audience. She turned back toward the reporters, draping on arm over the back of the couch. It wasn't as open and inviting as the interview that had been leaked that morning, but then again the circumstances were quite different this time.

"You've had a busy day, since we last saw you," Julie responded, playing off her greeting. "Why don't you tell us about it?"

It was a kind question, opened ended, to allow Fi to say whatever she wished. Fi swallowed, but answered. "Well, the Simurgh attacked. My uncle was killed." She took a deep breath and Jason thought for a moment that she would say _I blackmailed the Triumvirate_. Instead, she continued, "And then I erased the rest of the Endbringers. Or, well, we did." She glanced at the camera as she corrected herself, making it seem natural, though he was pretty sure the mistake was deliberate.

He wondered how much of the less open quality of her performance came from being deaf, how much came from real grief which she could afford to show as part of her cover story, and how much came from needing to watch the interviewers in case they spoke.

Fi hurried to explain herself, and he couldn't tell if she was pretending to be more earnest than she felt for the not-yet-existent audience. He wanted to believe it was a performance, because it would mean that his teammate was alright enough to be thinking clearly.

"When I found out that the Simurgh had taken another member of my family… I sort of lost it." She gave the camera a brief, self-deprecating smile and Jason felt his heart soar, because she was playing it up, which meant she really was doing okay, at least at the moment. Maybe having something to focus on really was good for her.

The tension in her shoulders was still there as she turned back to the interviewers, but she was able to continue, "Eidolon came to Brockton Bay to talk to Armsmaster about the algorithm that enabled the evacuation. After he got here, we started talking about the Endbringers, about Behemoth and his powers… I think I told you earlier that it was Behemoth's unique dynokinesis that enabled his destruction?"

Bobby and Julie both nodded their agreement, and Fi continued, "Well, the Wards and I were talking about the Endbringers. We were trying to find another cape with similar dynokinesis, just brainstorming really. They were being good friends, trying to distract me from my uncle. Eidolon heard our discussion…"

She trailed off, shrugging, and let the sentence hanging. She was doing a good job of sounding earnest, sincere, and open. "Eidolon can mimic nearly any powerset, given the right circumstances. He didn't find a direct match, but it was close enough. We were able to work together to destroy the rest of the Endbringers, though without the matter-reformation from Behemoth. It seems like they just… vanished."

Bobby took up the questioning. "So they really are gone?"

Fi nodded firmly. "Yes. I did everything exactly the same as I did for Behemoth. I guess it's possible that something went wrong on Eidolon's end, but I doubt we'll be seeing any of the Endbringers again." Fi smiled a little tentatively. She looked tired, worn out, but triumphant.

Her comment toed the edge of the line Glenn had drawn in the sand, making her promise not to poke Eidolon, but it was the truth. If they saw any of the Endbringers again, it would be Eidolon's fault. They couldn't come out and say anything directly, but they could plant the idea. Depending on how seriously Eidolon took the jab, it might even been seen as blackmail. Jason was a little surprised they hadn't all be killed, or otherwise silenced yet, either by precog shenanigans or by Eidolon himself.

Despite her earlier caution, Fi seemed willing to take some risks now. He added _terrifying precog_ to the list of topics he needed to discuss with her at the earliest opportunity.

Bobby and Julie were nodding along, in understanding, as Fi explained. As she finished, Julie asked the next question. "So all you needed was Eidolon's help, all along?" Her tone was surprisingly gentle, considering she was basically asking why Fi hadn't swatted the Endbringers before the Simurgh attacked and killed hundreds of people.

"Not just that, no," Fi refuted just as gently. "I know most heroes don't talk much about their powers, and some of that is because we don't understand them very well, as a whole phenomenon I mean. But we do know that powers are stronger, more potent, during the heat of battle. Like women who can lift cars to save their babies due to adrenaline, some powers have a… secondary mode. It's difficult to access, sporadic, and sometimes the stress of being pushed over that threshold can cause permanent damage, mentally or physically. The grief of losing my uncle pushed me over that threshold."

The debate over exactly how to present Fi's fake second trigger had not been easily won. Trigger events in general weren't public knowledge, and everyone was a little wary of encouraging capes to go out and take more risks. But at the same time, Missy was adamant that they make it clear to the public that Fi could not have solved the Endbringer problem any earlier, and she had a point.

This weird story, half adrenaline rush and half second trigger, was the result.

Fi sighed, glanced at the camera, and then re-focused on Julie. "The other thing, is… my power is inherently scary. In New York, I _converted matter_. If I hadn't found a way to re-direct the energy blast, I could very well have destroyed the planet given exactly how much energy was contained _in_ that matter. I was high on adrenaline at the time, desperate, and I instinctively knew what to do. But once I got my feet on the ground and thought about what I had done… I was terrified."

She swallowed heavily. Her tone reminded Jason of when she'd talked about her potential to destroy souls. She took her responsibilities very seriously, and he would bet anything that even though she was talking about non-existent mechanics of her fake powerset, she was thinking about the real damage that was constantly within her grasp.

She broke eye contact to glance at her hands, then looked up at Bobby, sounding earnest. "After Behemoth, the Protectorate convinced me to experiment with my power, trying to convert grains of salt or sugar. I couldn't do it. There was a block, something missing, that stopped me. I was grateful, for that limitation. I didn't want, I _don't_ want, to be a walking nuclear weapon. I was scared of my own power."

"So, to answer the question of why now? Part of it was my grief opening up that threshold for me, removing the block I felt when I tried to experiment. Part of it was my own desperation to lash out at the Simurgh finally pushing me past my fears. Part of it was Eidolon and I being in the same city, which lead to the realization he might be able to supply the missing dynokinetic power."

She swallowed heavily, looking away from the reporters but not quite making eye contact with the cameras, either. "Do I wish, desperately, that I'd done this two days ago? Of course I do. I'd give _anything_ to have saved those that died, my own family included. But that's not what happened. And now, I get to live with that regret for the rest of my life."

A stunned silence followed her pronouncement, as she looked back towards the newscasters in case they spoke. Glenn had advised her against actually apologizing for not killing the Endbringers sooner. He maintained, they all maintained, that the deaths were not her fault. No one had known the schedule would compress. Everyone, from the Triumvirate down, had believed there was time - months of time - before the situation would be critical.

Glenn didn't want her to take responsibility for the deaths, which is what an apology would imply. What Fi was doing now danced on the edge of that prohibition.

After another couple heartbeats of silence, Fi looked to the camera and spoke directly to the audience for the first time. "My sympathy, my prayers, and my heart goes out to everyone who suffered because of the Simurgh's attack, and to the families of those who have fallen in previous Endbringer attacks. These atrocities have taken so much from us all."

She maintained the gaze for another beat, then looked back towards Bobby and Julie. It was Bobby who finally responded. "You have our condolences as well, Contract. Losing your parents, and now your uncle to the Endbringers… I can't imagine."

Julie reached over the gap between their seats, and rested a hand on Fi's, which were clenched together in her lap. "Thank you, for what you did. You've saved millions, billions, of lives. No one else will have to lose family to the Endbringers, because of you."

Fi smiled tightly, and nodded wordlessly. Jason could see tears in her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He couldn't tell anymore if this was for the cameras, or if she was breaking down again.

With only a moment's hesitation, he stepped into the camera's view and took a seat beside Contract, putting an arm around her.

"I think you're the first ones besides her teammates who have thanked her," Intrepid explained, mostly for the sake of having _something_ to say. "It's a little overwhelming, to realize that the threat of the Endbringers is actually over. It keeps hitting her, hitting us all. It'd be a lot to handle even if… well, if her uncle hadn't died."

Intrepid barely caught himself before he said Ash's name. It was only his reflexive reach for a cape name, which of course Ash didn't have, that reminded him that Ash's identity wasn't to be released.

Bobby and Julie were consummate professionals and rolled with his input flawlessly.

"You're Intrepid, aren't you? The one who helped Contract erase Behemoth?" Intrepid nodded, both grateful to be able to take the pressure off of Contract and dreading this a little. His parents had both insisted that the media not make a big deal about his role in New York. He'd refused to give interviews and vanished off PHO for a while, and for the most part the media had ignored him anyway. To most, he was a random, faceless mover that just happened to be close to Contract at the right moment.

That was about to change.

"That's right. I found her on the battlefield, and she asked for a lift." He smiled his most charming smile, purposefully mimicking Contract's tendency to make the momentous sound casual. The reporters smiled with him, sharing the humor.

Julie leaned back as she asked, "Did you come to Brockton Bay to be paired with Contract?"

It was another soft-ball question, one he'd actually already answered on the PHO boards when he announced he was leaving Texas.

"No, not at all. My dad took a job in this region. I loved working with my team in Texas, and I actually begged him to leave me behind with a family friend. Of course, now that I've met the Brockton Bay Wards, I'm glad to be here.

"I was shocked when I walked into the base on the first day and saw Contract sitting at our table. I hadn't heard from her in weeks, and I had no idea she'd been moved out of New York City."

Bobby took the next question. "So where were you when the excitement was going down this morning?"

There were a couple candidates for what she meant by 'excitement' but smart money said she was fishing for details about the moment that the Endbringers had been banished. "Well, the team stayed up late last night, so we slept through the attack itself. None of us are cleared for contact with the Simurgh, so we weren't part of the alert from the prediction. When we got up and saw the news, Contract was distraught. Then she was informed about her uncle. The whole team rallied around her at that point, but she wanted _answers_ more than anything."

He took a deep breath and glanced down at Contract to buy himself a bit of time. The story they'd all worked out included a timeline, but he hadn't thought about how to translate it into an actual narrative, so he was making the details up on the fly.

"We called up to the Triumvirate who, like Contract said, were talking to Armsmaster. They came down as a group, all four of them, and Miss Militia too. So we were all together when the discussion just sort of… meandered. One minute we were talking about the Endbringers in general, and the next we were suddenly looking at a possible solution to the problem."

In a fit of bravery and inspiration, Intrepid decided he was going to claim a little credit for the Wards, since it was close to the truth anyway. "It wasn't like you might imagine - there was no dramatic, revelation moment. The Wards were talking, just chatting really, and the Triumvirate were joining in the discussion and then - BAM. Endbringers gone. I think it might have been Beetle who made the final suggestion, but I'd have to watch the base surveillance to say for sure."

He gave a little laugh, high on the anticipation of what he had just done, "It didn't _feel_ momentous at the time. It was just a conversation among teammates, with the Triumvirate in the room. It's hard to believe that 12 hours ago we were just eating pizza and watching a movie."

Julie and Bobby seemed pleased with that answer. Glenn rolled his eyes, but Clockblocker and Armsmaster were nodding in unconscious unison, both of them evidently pleased with his gambit. Under his arm, Contract had relaxed again, but she was sitting back, looking towards him, content to let him talk, and very content to have someone sharing the spotlight.

"Well, then we owe a thanks to you all," Julie offered sincerely. "Thank you for destroying them. And, we're sorry for your loss." Contract shook her hand, nodded again, and offered a quiet smile.

There was an audible click as the camera turned off, but Julie didn't release Contract's hand immediately. "I lost my grandfather in one of Behemoth's first attacks. It does get better, eventually."

"Thank you," Contract whispered, her eyes wet. Bobby stepped forward and shook her hand as well, then Intrepid put a hand on her back and led her out of the room while Glenn stepped forward to talk to the two reporters.

All in all, it had been a very fair interview, kind even, and Intrepid knew he could trust Clockblocker and Glenn to be sure it was edited and presented properly.

* * *

After the interview, Jason expected Fi to be tired, but she seemed contemplative more than anything. She returned to the Ward's main conference room, where she sat in front of the console for a while, lost in thought. Jason and Taylor, who were acting as her shadows for now, shared a glance and mutually decided to allow her to brood for a little while.

It didn't last as long as Jason had expected. Within just thirty minutes of the end of the interview, Fi reached out to the keyboard and pulled up video chat, calling Dragon.

The call was answered within moments, and Dragon's computer-rendered mask showed what seemed to be genuine concern. "How are you doing, honey?" she asked, sounding a bit like Jason's mom after he'd lost a game.

Fi shrugged, but she did put her feet up on the desk in front of her, so she was more relaxed than she had been all day. "I'm not going to kill myself or anyone else."

Dragon blinked, obviously not prepared for that level of bluntness, and Fi continued before she regained her equilibrium. "Sorry. I didn't mean that. Do you have a minute? I had some questions."

"For you, I've got several minutes," Dragon assured her, and Fi smirked in reply.

"The Wards said that Jazz disappeared within moments of the Triumvirate leaving?"

"That's correct. And there's been no sign of Leviathan either."

"Did she do anything odd before she vanished? Change direction, move in an unexpected way, anything?"

"No, not really. Why?"

Fi didn't answer right away, and Jason glanced toward Taylor. Taylor was looking towards him, just as confused. Whatever Fi was getting at, neither of them had picked up on it yet.

"I just…" Fi trailed off, then continued. "Why would Eidolon give up such an advantage? As long as the Simurgh and Leviathan were around, he could have used them to target enemies or cities or even individuals, maybe, depending on his other powers. They make for a powerful threat, and in a terribly cynical way they were a moderating and unifying force for the world. Why did he throw that away?"

Dragon seemed just as nonplussed by this answer as she had by Fi's initial reassurance. Hesitantly she asked, "You didn't expect him to destroy the Endbringers?"

"Honestly? No." Fi held up a hand and started to tick points off on her fingers.

"One, they are constructs, not projections, so I'm not entirely sure HOW he vanished them. I didn't even consider that as a possibility. All that mass had to go somewhere.

"Two, he manifested them for a reason. Whatever that reason was, it was strong enough to create them.

"Three, he gave up a huge amount of power, as I said. If the Endbringers had just… stopped… he would have been much safer. I basically just blackmailed him on national television, saying that if they ever come back then it's his fault. If they weren't gone in the first place, I couldn't have done that.

"Four, he didn't require much time at all to make his decision. It's a decision the entire world saw, that sent ripples through every government and hero team as soon as it was made, and yet he made it remarkably quickly."

"What are you getting at?" Dragon asked her cautiously.

Fi bit her lip, then said very quietly, "I just don't understand. It's quite possible there are factors that I don't know about. But the more likely answer is that some sort of precog bullshit told Eidolon to pop them. Maybe it was his own precog power of some sort. Maybe it's whatever pet precog Legend has on call. Maybe Eidolon IS Legend's pet precog. But I don't understand, and I don't like it."

"I'm not sure that's the most likely answer," Dragon offered slowly, looking thoughtful. "I'm not saying it's impossible, but there's a big gap between possible and reality."

"Maybe," Fi said, sounding doubtful but not totally dismissing Dragon's concern. "I'm not sure why I was even allowed to interview, though. The Triumvirate left, they failed to secure the information we'd learned beyond our verbal promises at the very beginning of the meeting, they destroyed the Endbringers immediately, and then they gave us hours of free reaction time. I feel like I'm being trapped, and I don't know exactly how. Maybe it's paranoia, but it can't hurt to be prepared."

"What can I do to help?" Dragon asked, concerned even though she still seemed a little doubtful herself. The answer seemed to rouse Fi from her dark musings.

"It became abundantly clear earlier today that I know basic facts about capes that are much less common than I believed. On the chance that I am going to meet a messy end, or some other silencing gesture in the near future, I want to share that information with you. Note," she held up a hand, like she was swearing an oath, "this is not a suicidal contingency. I am worried about an outside force moving against me, not my own hand."

Dragon nodded, actually looking bemused at that. "I _was_ listening to the call this morning through Armsmaster's systems. Do you mind if we start with the Siberian?"

"The Siberian is a projection. That's what we know for a fact. We suspect that the actual cape is male, mid-to-late middle age, but that's just profiling. Ash had an algorithm that was trying to track vehicles that moved around with the Nine, because the cape probably has a range, but it wasn't really a priority. Like I said earlier, we thought it was a known fact, though not released to the public."

"How did you know it?" Dragon asked, cautiously, likely knowing that the source of Fi's knowledge might be touchy. "Did you meet her?"

"Well, yes, eventually. But I figured she wasn't really alive before that. I mean, she couldn't die… so…" Fi trailed off, and shrugged.

Dragon blinked. "You didn't assume it was part of her powerset? To be invincible."

Fi's mouth twisted in an ironic, secretive smile. "No. Capes are human. They live, they breathe, they dream, and they die. The Siberian can't die, ergo, I presumed she was not a cape."

Dragon looked for a moment like she was going to pursue this topic, but instead she changed tracks. "Do you have any insights about Nilbog?"

"Not really. I barely got a block or two inside the wall, and I wasn't there for him." Her tone made it clear the subject was closed, although Jason figured the other two had to be as curious as he was. He and Taylor exchanged another glance. Fi really needed someone to talk to that she could trust.

"Okay," Dragon allowed, letting the topic drop just as she had with the Siberian. "Was there anything else?"

"Yes. Crawler is a cape, and he can die, if it's done right. Ditto with Lung and the Abominations. I haven't had contact with any other S-class threats directly. I suspect that Butcher can be dealt with permanently if he or she can be captured, isolated, and then killed by a regular person, but that's obviously easier said than done. Barring that, it might be possible to have him or her be killed by a natural force, with fourteen or fifteen normal people around, spreading out the influence and the danger. Ask the thinkers for details."

Dragon nodded, "The last has been on the record for some time, but as you said, it is easier said than done."

Fi nodded back, acknowledging the point. "Though he's already in the Birdcage, you should know that everyone Teacher influenced, he also Mastered. His gifts can't be separated from his will."

Again, Dragon nodded to show that this wasn't new information.

Fi shrugged and waved a hand, "I know some of this is known, but I thought the stuff about the Siberian was known as well, so I want to cover all of the important bases."

She leaned back, closing her eyes, and Dragon glanced at Jason and then at Taylor, smiling at them. She could have wished them hello - they wouldn't have disturbed Fi, what with her being deaf and all - but maybe she forgot that, or maybe it felt rude to her.

Fi mumbled with her eyes closed. "The Nine, the Abominations, Butcher, Teacher… Saint!"

She opened her eyes and leaned forward. "First, Saint got his powers from Teacher. See previous note about Teacher's mastering. Second, Ash told me to tell you that he has left you several gifts, in the case of his death. He said you'd be able to find them, but you might not trust them. I swear to you, as Ash swore to me, that they are safe, and they are true." She shrugged again, "That's all I know."

Dragon smiled. "Thank you. That explains a lot. I wonder though… were there any other hackers he was close to?"

"No. Not that I knew of. Why?"

"Some of what I've found was made years ago. I didn't start corresponding with him until after I met you."

Fi smiled softly, and a little sadly. "Ash admired your work for years. He positively gushed about you. We teased him for having a crush at the ripe old age of thirty two. It wouldn't surprise me in the least if he'd been preparing things for a long time, just in case he never got to introduce himself. He had a peculiar outlook on life. He lived for the moment, for the day, but he also loved to make contingency plans. He liked the challenge of it, I think."

Dragon looked pleased at that. "He sounds like an amazing man."

"Oh, he really was."

Dragon opened her mouth, but then shut it with a frown, and her face got distracted as something pulled her attention away from the call. It was only a moment before she looked back to them, however. "Fi, honey, are you expecting a package today?"

"No. Why?" A moment later, comprehension dawned on Fi's face. "Is it FedEx? Delivered by a blonde?"

Dragon looked away from the screen, and then looked alarmed. "She's already left the lobby. I can't find her on any traffic cameras. She's… just… gone." A furrow of confusion had engraved itself so deeply into Dragon's forehead that Jason wondered if she'd have a permanent wrinkle, until he remembered that this was a rendering.

"She would be. You better send it on down. It's important."

Dragon looked dubious, but after studying Fi's face for a moment, she said, "Someone is coming with it now."

Taylor, who was still masked up, went over to the elevator, and took the simple envelope from the PRT guard who delivered it. She carried it back over to the console, reading the label as she did so.

"It claims to be from Amazon. I'm guessing that's a fake?"

She handed it over to Fi as she spoke, and Fi nodded thoughtfully, fingering the envelope without opening it. "Do you have a lighter?" she finally asked, looking up like she was coming out of a dream.

Jason and Taylor both shook their heads, a little stunned.

Fi shrugged. "Just as well. I'd hate to set off a fire alarm."

"You're not going to open it?" Jason asked, gently. Fi glanced up only as he finished speaking, but she guessed what he had asked.

"I already know that it contains a letter. The fact that it has been delivered to me tells me everything I need to know."

Taylor looked as surprised as Jason felt, although it suddenly occurred to him that if she knew who was hand-delivering a fake package to her, chances were that she must have some idea what was inside it.

"You don't need to read it?" he double checked.

She gave him another sad smile. "No, but thank you for the concern." Fi glanced up at Dragon. "I think I'd like to go down to the Boardwalk. Can you let Armsmaster know that I'm going out with Jason and Taylor?"

* * *

Fi didn't say much until they'd bought a lighter and wandered down past the limits of the Boardwalk, almost to the edge of the Bay. They stood there, together, in the chilly wind, staring at the grey scenery, for what felt like a long time.

"We burn our dead," Fi said out of the blue, still staring across the Bay. If one of them wanted to interrupt her, they'd have to purposefully catch her attention; she wasn't watching their faces. "It's a family tradition, you could say. Fire cleanses. It converts dead matter into living flame. It transforms rot into light."

She turned the envelope over in her hands, fiddling with it like she had since the moment Taylor had given it to her, but still not opening it. "This is my family's final goodbye. After what happened with Ash, there's really no other choice. I finally free myself from the Behemoth contract - I have the chance to go back, if I trusted Eidolon to restrain Behemoth - and yet, there is nothing for me to go back to."

She glanced over to the two of them, but Jason wasn't sure what she saw. He wasn't even sure what his face looked like. Somehow, he'd forgotten for a few hours that Fi was being held as a Ward against her will, forced by circumstance and a lack of alternatives.

He didn't want her to go, but the fact that she couldn't go back, that her family blamed her, was worse. He had to say something. "It wasn't your fault."

"Maybe," she allowed, looking away again, "maybe not. It's not about blame though - it's about practicality. And practically speaking, if I hold onto my past, it will hold me back. And I will be endangering my family, as I endangered Ash."

Fi pulled the lighter she'd bought out of her pocket and lit it, holding it against the edge of the envelope. Once it caught, she held it out away from her, flame up, so that the package would burn slowly.

"Go, my friend. Do not be held here by my grieving. Go and make trouble for the angelic feather-dusters. They could use shaking up." As she spoke, the envelope burned with a nasty, plastic-y smell.

Her voice started to choke up as she continued. "I am going to miss you, Ash. You were my support, my rock, my sounding board. You checked my temper and vetted my schemes. We're all going to feel your passing. We needed you for so much. You were our shield, our eyes and ears, our brain, and our voice. I know you had no regrets, but I do. I regret not listening to you years ago. I regret my hard-headedness. I regret my anger. I selfishly want you here."

The smell changed, got worse, and the tears that she'd been holding back started streaming down her cheeks. "You were the closest damn thing I had to a father. And," she let out a small sob, "I love you."

The fire had reached her fingers now, hanging onto the last safe corner. She dropped the scrap onto the sand, and they watched it burn itself out. Soon, there was nothing left but a little bit of discolored ash, and then even that was blown away by the chilly wind.


	30. The Most Powerful Man in the World

**Chapter Thirty: The Most Powerful Man in the World**

 **March 19, 2011**

David wasn't a stranger to pain. Over the course of his life, and particularly his career as a hero, he'd taken his fair share of hits and injuries, and had fought through them when necessary.

Pain didn't begin to describe the sensation he was feeling. It was like an electric shock, contracting muscles before he registered discomfort, but leaving the traces of agony behind in its wake. His mind lurched sideways, like he'd missed a stair, and for a moment David wasn't holding a single power.

His elbow struck the floor first, while he scrambled to try to grasp at the thinker and precog powers he had been maintaining since they had arrived in Brockton Bay. For the first time in his life, the grasping worked, and the powers slotted back into place.

"I just did," he heard from a long way off, and his thinker power Interpret Other People told him that it was Contract. His funny bone was sending lancing pain through his arm and shoulder, overriding protests from the bruises forming on his right hip, knee, ribs, and the throbbing in his skull where his head had struck the floor.

The arcing, electric pain stopped, and Eidolon felt his body still, and Contact whispered, "Now get out."

 **Loathing,** Interpret Other People supplied. **Self-Loathing. Resignation. Fear. Worry** _._

He cut off the tide of information and scrambled back to his feet. As his head cleared the table, he saw that Contract was seated once again, staring down into her lap. Then she looked up, tears streaming down her face.

 **Feeling trapped. Willing to lash out. Losing self-control.**

His third power, Perfect Recall, took that moment to make itself known, and recited back to him Contract's earlier words. **"Not just physical murder, of which I am capable, but a soul-level annihilation of anyone or everyone within my radius."**

His first power, Interpret Other People, helpfully supplied the answer to the question he was afraid to ask: **Within radius.**

Interpret Other People was a power he'd named before he really understood all that it could do. He suspected it was an off-shoot or close relation of another thinker and precognitive power that was now exhausted and useless to him. Primarily, it provided insight into the emotions of the people around him at the time, letting him read intonation, body language, and actions with perfect clarity. Occasionally, it also gave him other explanations, mostly pre- or post-cognitive, that he didn't ask for. This answer was one such piece of information.

"Leave us the hell alone," Contract hissed, and Eidolon twitched his fingers in the manner which meant 'retreat.' Immediately, Alexandria stood up, and Legend followed her lead a half a second later. Without any further words, the Triumvirate retreated to the elevator, which opened even as they approached.

 **Armsmaster controlling building systems** _,_ Interpret Other People whispered. Eidolon debated dropping the power, because that was another piece of information he hadn't tried to suss out and he didn't want to be distracted, but he decided to hold onto it for now. He might need it to help handle Legend's reaction, and he didn't want to risk getting a useless power in return. Except… maybe that wouldn't be a problem anymore _._

 _One thing at a time._ Eidolon thought, glad to get into the elevator and hear the doors close behind them. First, he needed to try to sense if there was any immediate signs of danger. Unfortunately, the power Danger Sense was extremely limited. It would give a hint towards the next potential danger he would face, but the farther out the danger was, or the less likely it was to occur, the more obscure the hint would be.

In this case, it gave him another prompt from Perfect Recall: **"Can I trust him to use this new power to dismantle the Endbringers, and not to create another ten just for kicks?"**

The reminder of the Endbringers made David want to hurl. What he'd done… even unknowingly, accidentally… he forcefully locked it away, _again_ , to deal with when he could get drunk and sick and _after_ he figured out what he was going to do about it.

Eidolon wretched his thoughts back on track, cursing the non-specificity of Danger Sense. It provided clues to possible sources of danger, but not clear answers. Did the prompt from Perfect Recall mean that he was in danger from the Endbringers? In danger of accidentally making more? Was he in danger from the contract in some way?

That last felt like it might be the most correct, so he used Perfect Recall to run through the rest of the questions Contract had asked just before she applied the contract, after which she had said, **"I just did."** They were the only clue he had to what might be entailed in the deal. At the time, Interpret Other People had said she was **ranting** , honestly **upset** , but also **thinking about something else at the same time** , sort of multi-tasking. So she had most likely been ranting and constructing the deal on the fly.

Contract had been operating under the same deal as the rest of them, forced to speak the truth or else refuse to answer. So presumably, her questions all had to be true, or she couldn't have said that she "just did," in self-answer to them. Or maybe that was only meant to answer one of the questions. But she had also specified that they couldn't use the truth to purposefully deceive each other. It was a mess.

On the other hand, she had straight out said that she used to hate Eidolon. What might happen if he _didn't_ dismantle the Endbringers?

No, that was the wrong question. Neither he nor Contract had any wish for the Endbringers to continue. So how could he even destroy them? How had he created them, for that matter?

He could feel his three power slots, as always. At the moment, they were filled by powers he had nicknamed Perfect Recall, Danger Sense, and Interpret Other People. Tentatively, he released Interpret Other People.

Nothing filled the slot.

Eidolon took a deep breath and reached for the power Interpret Other People with metaphorical hands he had never felt before. Immediately, it came back, though weaker as a power always was when it was first chosen. He let it go again, and called for another power he'd nicknamed Screw with Gravity.

A thousand lights ignited in a sense he'd never felt before, and after a moment, one light was brighter than the others. He reached for it with a mental idea of a hand, and felt the power Screw with Gravity slot into place. He released the power immediately, and called for the power Endbringers.

Darkness answered him.

Then the elevator door opened, and he remembered where he was. One side effect of Danger Sense was an accelerated thought process, meant to increase relative reaction time to any perceived danger. It was useful in combat, but it also lent itself to blocking out the world if he wasn't careful.

Eidolon followed Alexandria out onto the roof, moving on autopilot, and traded Perfect Recall for Screw with Gravity while he queried his power again.

The name Screw with Gravity had shown a lot of sparks, not just the one he thought of by that nickname. A quick grasping of a sample of those sparks showed that they all did relate to gravity in some way, though not all of them obvious. Several were marginally effective flight powers, with no ability to affect the gravity of any other body. Two were density-manipulation powers, and one seemed to be affecting the attractions between atoms.

So, the control he had over his powers didn't necessarily correspond with how he thought of them, and the name Endbringers wasn't sufficient to identify them to his power control.

Manifest Creatures brought up thousands of lights, but none of the brightest ones were what he was looking for. The Endbringers might be buried somewhere in that name, but there wasn't a good way to sort through the shifting stars to find out.

Manipulative Precognition was likewise unhelpful.

Enemy Constructs had less than Manifest Creatures, but still hundreds of possibilities.

Create Worldwide Threat and Conflict, however, gave just twenty answers. The first one he touched didn't fill his slot. Instead, it gave him the sound of the roaring ocean and a scream of rage. His pulse quickened. That could be Leviathan.

He dropped that one and touched the one next to it. This time he felt the crushing pressure of being far under water and for a moment, even though he was flying, he could swear the ground was crumbling under his feet.

Eidolon dropped this power in shock, like releasing a hot pan, and realized that this, too, could easily be Leviathan. None of the sparks were any brighter than the others, or came any closer, or gave any other indication that they had been used. Cautiously, Eidolon extended a single mental finger to the star that was next-closest to the two he'd already tried.

This time, the power felt like it might actually be his, be filling a slot, rather than an outside force. He could extrude a water-version of himself. He could manipulate water. He could manipulate the skies. He could feel the currents of the ocean brushing over his back while he waited, patiently, for another chance to vent his rage and rain down destruction upon—

—Eidolon yanked back his whole self, pulling inward, and nearly lost the hold on Screw with Gravity and Danger Sense that he was still maintaining. That was definitely Leviathan. Looking at the light, compared to the two others, he could see that it was a little more gold than the others, a little warmer, perhaps. There were four other lights that matched the same description.

Behemoth. Leviathan. Simurgh. And two more, unaccounted for. But if there were two new Endbringers, then the accelerated schedule made a little more sense. Five creations of worldwide threat and conflict, manifested by his own powers.

For a single moment, David wanted to just run from it all. Drop his powers, _all_ his powers, and shut it all out. He could do that now; for the first time in nearly as long as he could remember, he didn't have to have three voices screaming for his attention, crying to be used, whispering options and solutions.

The moment passed quickly. He was a hero, first and foremost. He'd done things he wasn't proud of, things that had been necessary and evil. But he did them because they were the only option, the hard choice, the best hope. And that's what he had to do now.

What was his best hope?

He wanted to lash out, destroy the Endbringers immediately, but he knew it was an emotional reaction. There might be some reason to keep them, though he couldn't see any. Much easier to find where reasons to destroy them, starting with the possibility that Contract had built a fail-safe into her deal.

He ran over Contract's rant of questions again, but Eidolon didn't find any more answers in it this time than he had before. It was true that if Contract could alter the very fabric of his powers, she could put kill switches or other hidden clauses into the deal too. But would she?

She had been genuinely distraught as she talked about her capacity for murder, both physical and metaphysical. But it was the same distraught resolve which Eidolon found in himself, whenever he had to consider all that he and Cauldron were doing to try to save the world. For the right purpose, she would use those tools. But did this qualify?

Even if it didn't, what was his best move? The Endbringers were shortening Cauldron's timeframe, killing too many capes and devastating countries. They were forcing the population to constrict and every attack cost the world a weapon, a power, a group, or a place that they couldn't afford to lose.

In an abstract way, he could admit that stopping the Endbringers – freezing them, vanishing them, killing them, dissolving them – was not without consequences. The eyes of the world were on the Endbringers. The Protectorate, with Cauldron's hidden help, had kept the calm after Behemoth was killed. They'd used her silence to portray Contract as recovering; they'd made it clear that the attack had cost her; and they'd played up some of the doubts that people had about the veracity of his demise.

Dealing with the other two, even assuming that the new two could be handled before they were even seen, would set the world aflame.

The argument wasn't enough to convince him. Equally present was the opposite side of this absurd dilemma. No Endbringers would allow Cauldron more time to prepare for the end of the world. It would certainly mean more capes would be alive when the time came. Perhaps they would be less willing to fight, not being as accustomed routinely uniting under the Endbringer truces, but once the danger of the enemy was demonstrated, surely they would fall back to old habits, and create the truce once again?

Most of all, above and through every thought, was the fact that Eidolon wanted them gone. He couldn't bear to be the cause of so much death, not for another moment, not without astonishingly good reason. More immediately, he knew he wouldn't be able to face Legend if he didn't at least try to stop them.

Eidolon dropped back into the new sense that came with his power upgrade, and stared at the twenty bright lights. They were individual agents, each pre-designed with certain powers and certain fighting methods. He concentrated on the five yellower lights and they drifted closer to him, but he didn't try to touch them again.

Leviathan had nearly overwhelmed David, first in his powers and then in his senses and even his mindset. If he brushed against the Simurgh, could she control him? It wasn't a risk worth taking. He wouldn't be able to control them directly.

So how to deal with them, if not by control? How would he even go about vanquishing them, as he wished to?

The obvious answer was to try to turn them a little bluer. Even as the idea occurred to him, four of the five lights shifted to match their counterparts. The fifth spark stayed stubbornly yellow, and when he reached out in frustration to understand why, he met a barrier.

This was Behemoth, locked away behind Contract's power, which she hadn't released yet.

He reached out a little stronger, trying to see if he could turn it blue anyway. A blue light wrapped around the barrier, waiting for it to drop, but was unable to penetrate. Experimentally, Eidolon dropped the query for the Endbringers, waited a few seconds, and called it up again. The blue light still waited, wrapped around the Behemoth spark.

Encouraged, Eidolon dropped the query again, and called up Perfect Recall. Then he switched back to looking at the Endbringer sparks, and found the blue shield still steady, ready when and if Contract released Behemoth.

He sighed, and then dropped the view entirely, just flying for a moment with Screw with Gravity, Danger Sense, and a blank space for company. It was quiet, refreshing.

Then Eidolon reached for Interpret Other People, and paid attention to his teammates again. Legend was flying on the other side of Alexandria, partially transformed into a light beam, but the thinker power still allowed Eidolon to understand his teammate.

At this stage of flight, Legend was thinking slowly, but he _was_ still thinking and feeling emotions. Mostly, he was feeling **betrayed.** He was **confused, furious, curious, heartbroken,** and partially **in denial**. All of the emotions that were part and parcel with betrayal. He was going to give Eidolon and Alexandria a chance to explain themselves, but they would only have _one_ chance.

At that moment, Legend broke off and headed for the ground. In this part of the state, there was nothing but woods and uninhabited camping areas for a couple miles in each direction. Eidolon probably could have read his reasoning even without help.

 **Legend wanted answers** now, not at Cauldron, and from the two of them rather than from the Doctor Mother. It was possible that he was trying to avoid Contessa, or rather, the 'murderous precog' that Contract had accused them of having, but Eidolon knew his teammate better than that. **Legend was making an emotional decision** to get answers immediately, and it just so happened to have tactical advantages.

Legend passed in front of the other two, unable to see their faces, and Alexandria and Eidolon shared a glance as they followed him down. _The truth?_ she asked him by tipping her eyebrow.

Eidolon nodded. He dropped Danger Sense and asked instead for Directed Vision Precognition. He got several hundred responses, but only had to try three before he found one that would do what he was looking for: the ability to predict what would happen in Brockton Bay, a few hours in advance.

He wanted to focus entirely on the conversation ahead, but the reality was that they'd just left world-altering information in the hands of teenagers. He didn't think they'd be idiots about it, and Contessa could probably handle it if they were going to, but he didn't like to rely on Contessa too heavily. Something else might be more important at any given moment, so he would keep an eye on Brockton Bay at least until and unless it caused issues with Legend.

He couldn't see Contract clearly, but he could see Miss Militia and Director Piggot, so they should have some warning if the Wards broke the Endbringer truce and tried to use their new knowledge against the Triumvirate.

As they descended, Eidolon adjusted to a slower thought process, and momentarily dropped Interpret Other People in order to choose a defensive power. He ended up with a force field power that re-directed energy, and would probably protect him and Alexandria just in case Legend snapped. It would at least give him time to drop the precognition and find teleportation or some other method of retreat.

He refused to consider that he might need to harm his teammate. He'd flee Legend long before he'd hurt him, and at least at the moment **Legend would let him go.**

As soon as they landed, Eidolon dropped Screw with Gravity in favor of Interpret Other People. Alexandria touched down a moment later, facing Legend as Eidolon was, and then there was a moment of silence.

"Destroy the Endbringers," Legend commanded, " _Now_."

"It's done," Eidolon returned calmly. "Or rather, I've done my best. If it didn't work, then we need more resources and time than are available in these woods."

"If you want me to go anywhere with you, explain," Legend snapped out in the voice he used on his adversaries, and not on his teammates.

Eidolon carefully didn't glance at Alexandria. He didn't want to indicate to Legend that the two of them were coordinating their answer.

"The world is in danger," Eidolon said, mindful of the fact that he was still under the truth-compulsion contract, but also knowing that Scion might be listening. "Not just from the Endbringers, as we told you. But from another enemy. That enemy might be listening now."

Legend's lip pulled up and back, **distain,** and Eidolon hurried on. "The contract is still in effect. We can't lie. Try it." Eidolon himself tried to say, 'my name is Suzie' but found his mouth was simply left open. He shut it.

Legend opened his mouth, then shut it with a snap of his own. "Who is the enemy?"

" _He might be listening._ " Eidolon repeated slowly, trying to impart the importance of this fact. Legend scoffed, but **in frustration** not disbelief.

"We were trying to protect you," Alexandria said, getting to the heart of the matter. "The decisions we have had to make are… they're impossible. They're ugly decisions, and we didn't want you to have to bear that burden." Reluctantly, perhaps even forced by the contract they were still under, she added, "We didn't think you would be able to bear it."

"Necessary evils?" Legend sneered, but there was **a hint of belief in his eyes.**

"Yes," Eidolon answered immediately, fervently, and he heard Alexandria answering at the same time, in the same tone.

 **Belief,** Interpret Other People supplied as Legend's eyebrows rose. **Belief that you believe what you're telling him** , it clarified a moment later. **Anger.**

"Then you admit that they are evil?" he shot back, struggling with the idea in his own mind. Eidolon paused, letting Legend turn over everything he knew before as well as everything he had just learned. He didn't want to push Legend with too much information too fast. If at all possible, he still wanted to be a Triumvirate when this was all over.

Eidolon knew that Legend had had his doubts at various times. When he'd discovered that Cauldron sold power to villains for the cash to operate, they'd had a pretty ugly shouting match. When he'd uncovered that they were still recruiting heroes from among terminal pediatric patients, he'd chosen to stew on the information for weeks instead of confronting them. When he'd learned that Cauldron required favors, even from their heroic clients, he'd argued until they pointed out that two of those favors had actually saved his life, and one had prevented a kidnapping of his son.

Eidolon was pretty sure that Legend had suspected the existence of a powerful precog at that time, though they'd claimed that the information came from the Protectorate think tank and Legend hadn't forced the question then.

The question was not whether Legend was going to require answers now. It was how much would be left of their friendship and teamwork when the answers were given.

"Tell me everything," Legend insisted, as Eidolon had known he would. Having accepted smaller evils before, and discovering the sort of thing they were covering, **Legend could do no less than confront himself with the full details of what he had overlooked.**

Whether Legend accepted their reasoning or not, Eidolon knew that his teammate would hold himself responsible for the evils he had unknowingly allowed. He would hold them responsible too, of course, but he would lay just as much guilt upon himself.

With that in mind, Eidolon made his tone as gentle as possible and said, "As you wish. We will tell you what we can here, but then we will need to go to another place, where we are less likely to be overheard, to tell you the rest."

"If you wish to leave when we are done, we won't hold you," Alexandria offered, reading the same reluctance that Eidolon could see clearly.

Legend paused, then squared his shoulders and nodded sharply. "So be it."

As Alexandria began to explain, Eidolon's precog power offered up a vision, and he looked it over. Vista, Miss Militia, and Kid Win were talking to Glenn, working on the final version of a press release about the disappearance of the Endbringers. The story was remarkably close to the true reading of events, though very kind to him. With a curl of shame, he realized that they were even giving him a part in the defeat, rather than the blame he deserved.

He chose not to mention this to his teammates, and dropped the precognition, asking for another thinker power to better relate to Legend instead. The Triumvirate had enough to worry about, saving their friendship, their team, and the world. The Brockton Bay team could handle the Endbringer fallout for now.

* * *

Walking Legend through the full recounting of Cauldron's activities was exhausting. Alexandria did most of the talking, probably because she could sense that Eidolon wasn't up for it.

It wasn't that he regretted taking the vial, not exactly anyway. He had made the best decision he could, with the information he had. Every decision had been the only option he really saw. He couldn't sit in a chair and do nothing with his life. He couldn't stand by and watch Scion burn the world. He couldn't ignore Doctor Mother and Contessa, and their foreknowledge, knowing it might hasten the burning of the world, or worsen it when it came.

He couldn't even argue that Cauldron had been wrong, not really. As much as he was personally sickened by what he had done, what his powers had done, the fact was that the vial had worked. It had produced a power, at least three powers and maybe as many as twenty, that had exchanged blows with Scion and come back for another hit. And another. And another. They'd never hurt Scion, but they hadn't been killed by him either.

And now, thanks to Contract, those powers were safely locked away, ready for the final day. Without Cauldron, Eidolon would not exist. For that matter, Contract herself might not exist either.

As Alexandria tried to make Legend's understand that Contessa had extreme foreknowledge, and every alternative he was suggesting had already been tried or was happening simultaneously elsewhere, Eidolon reflected on the puzzle that was Contract's trigger.

Obviously, she hadn't triggered from her vial, as they wouldn't have proceeded to torture her if she had. Presumably, she hadn't triggered from the torture either, as she said that she used the distraction of another cape and not her own powers to escape. Vials did fail, sometimes, but they had no evidence to suggest that a cape could trigger later, naturally, after a vial had failed.

He'd have to ask Doctor Mother about it later, after Legend was satiated. It did seem that Alexandria was slowly making progress. Despite her more brusk tone, Legend was responding to her better than to Eidolon.

Perhaps Legend didn't trust Eidolon not to use a Master power, or perhaps it was something worse. Eidolon had purposefully cut off Interpret Other People before he was given the answer; he didn't want to think about the fact that he might have already lost his friend, who had been the closest thing to family he had. Instead, he let Alexandria talk, for now, and split his attention elsewhere, taking advantage of the accelerated thinking.

Contract as a whole was puzzling, of course. She was one spot that Contessa had trouble predicting. Simple paths, with simple goals, usually worked, but if Contessa tried to add too many caveats, lengthening the path, there was a good chance that the predictions would suddenly fail to appear. For a few goals, there simply was no path. Among these? Kill Contract.

It wasn't that they'd been considering the alternative seriously. They'd simply been gathering information, and the result was startling. Contessa had slowly stripped away the additional contingencies she routinely added, so that the path went from "Kill Contract, keeping Cauldron's secrets, staying alive with an escape back to Doctor Mother available, etc," all the way to just "Kill Contract," and yet a path never appeared. Contessa couldn't kill Contract, and couldn't tell anyone else what to do to succeed either.

The Doctor Mother had quickly insisted that this didn't mean that Contract couldn't be killed. It could just mean that her death was somehow shielded. This encouraged Eidolon, in some sick way, but not by much.

"Are you trying to tell me there's _nothing_ I can do?" Legend ground out, gritting his teeth and gesturing to the papers on the desk in front of him, which held summaries of what Cauldron had been able to discover due to their tests.

They'd convinced Legend to relocate to Cauldron's alternate dimension when it became obvious that he wouldn't accept their explanations without knowing exactly who the enemy was, and fortunately neither Doctor Mother or Contessa had showed up yet.

 **Frustration.** Interpret Other People supplied. When no further details were offered, Eidolon pushed a little until the power yielded up an explanation. **Alexandria is too matter of fact. Not enough genuine sympathy.**

Eidolon tried to use the power to predict if it would be better or worse for him to speak, but no insight appeared. He decided to rejoin the conversation. He would understand Legend's struggle better than Alexandria.

"You're already doing it," Eidolon said, forcing himself to pay attention to his longtime teammate and friend and only him.

When it was obvious that Legend wasn't going to let loose a physical attack, Eidolon had traded his defensive force fields for Danger Sense, to take advantage of the accelerated thinking, which was now working against him. When he'd done so, he'd noticed the truly staggering number of precognition powers available to him. Something to explore later.

Eidolon leaned forward, knowing from Interpret Other People that he'd honestly **surprised** Legend. "You're saving lives, providing a safe and constructive team for natural triggers, fighting S-class threats, and maintaining order."

Eidolon swallowed, trying to find the best way to express himself, but not relying too heavily on his powers. Legend knew him, and he'd know if what he said was too far out of character. "Look, we're not trying to screw up the world. We are trying to save it. Everything from crime on the streets all the way up to the endgame."

"The Endbringers…" Legend started to rally, but Alexandria cut him off.

"The Endbringers are irrelevant. If we do nothing, everyone _will_ die. Everyone on this earth, on every connected earth, on earths we don't even know exist. Scion _will_ kill them all. The only way, the absolutely only way we have a chance, is if we seize it. We're not taking risks. We're creating chances. And yes, we're carving them out of human flesh and we're playing with powers we don't understand. What we _do_ understand is that the alternative is _certain death_."

Legend shook his head, but didn't speak **. Surrender**. Alexandria didn't look smug, and Eidolon didn't feel victorious. He didn't need a thinker power to tell him that Legend was surrendering out of exhaustion, confusion, and heartbreak. Maybe in a few days, he'd be able to understand and accept what they were saying. For now, he was simply overwhelmed.

Importantly, though, he wasn't going to expose Cauldron. He'd acknowledged almost from the beginning that it would be disastrous for the world to discover them. It would pull the carpet out from under every hero team that Cauldron was sponsoring; it would hurt innocent people in the crossfire; it would probably draw Scion's attention, if not his wrath; and worst of all it would put incredible power into the hands of politicians who didn't understand it, respect it, or fear it and who wouldn't use it to save the world, but to serve their short-term needs.

That part of the discussion had been easy compared to what followed. Alexandria had started the explanation of what Cauldron was doing by first showing Legend the results. The things they'd discovered, the things they could do, the powers they had waiting in reserve. After that, she hadn't needed to show him the methods by which these things had been discovered. He wasn't a thinker, but he was smart enough to see where the conversation was headed.

Still, he insisted that Alexandria and Eidolon spell it all out, every last crime, torturing himself and them in some sort of sick penance.

Eidolon got up from his seat next to Alexandria, walked around the table, and squatted on his heals next to Legend. He didn't try to touch his teammate, just rested beside him instead, as he spoke softly.

"I know this is hard to accept. Alexandria even said that it was an impossible decision. And at times, it has felt impossible. We've had the advantage and burden that we saw this all unfold slowly. We were part of those decisions, and we know that there really was no other option. Not if we want to live."

Eidolon queried Interpret Other People, and the power whispered back, **not suicidal, not violent, not rash, not motivated to lash out, not inclined to share his shame.**

It wasn't a sure thing, but it was probably safe enough to send Legend home. Whether he came back or not, well, they'd cross that bridge when they came to it.

"Go home," he nearly whispered, and now he did reach out and put a hand on Legend's shoulder, unable to resist offering some physical comfort to his long-time friend and brother-in-arms. "Hold your son. Think about his future. Kiss Arthur."

Alexandria matched his tone as she added, "We'll be here when you're ready to talk."

Legend shuddered slightly, **in grief** , and whispered back, "How do you do it? How do you live with yourselves?"

Eidolon answered immediately, knowing that Alexandria was too practical, too hard, to be able to answer this in a way that Legend would both accept and believe. "We have to do _something_. Someday, when this is over, we'll have the luxury of morality and judgment. And on that day, we'll deal with the consequences of what we've done. But those things _are_ luxuries. First, we have to make that day possible."

Eidolon held Legend's gaze, neither looking at Alexandria nor letting Legend glance at her either. He knew that she didn't agree. She was a utilitarian in the most clichéd sense of the stereotype: doing the most good, for the most people, and damn social constructs that were only holding them back and wouldn't save anyone's life. She didn't think Cauldron was doing wrong in the slightest, she saw no grey in trying to save the world, and she acknowledged no argument to the contrary.

Eidolon wasn't quite so cold, though sometimes he thought it would be easier if he was. It was impossible for him to look into the faces of their victims, particularly the unwilling ones, and not call what they were doing "wrong." It would be more wrong to do nothing, to let the world burn, but that didn't change the fact that experimenting on innocent people was morally wrong.

Eidolon wasn't sure where Legend would end up; if this knowledge would break him or if he'd come out stronger. He suspected the latter, but there was no way to be sure, which was why they'd never told him before.

Finally, Legend nodded and broke eye contact, glancing down at his hands. Then he stood up slowly, moving like an old man, and whispered, "Door to my home." The air changed, Legend stepped forward, and then Eidolon and Alexandria were alone.

For a long moment, they just stood there, looking at the place where Legend had been.

"Shall we?" Alexandria said as she roused herself, moving toward the office door, already focusing on the next important meeting: discussing the next steps with the rest of Cauldron's top tier.

 **Compartmentalizing. Afraid of losing her teammate. Shutting down doubts. Shutting down self-doubts.**

Eidolon pulled his hood back up out of habit, and followed Alexandria out of the room. As he closed the door behind himself, he glanced back just once, and caught sight of the papers strewn over the surface of the desk.

His heart twinged, but he didn't hesitate in the slightest. There would be time for regret, for grief, if and when they out-lived Scion.


	31. The World Keeps Turning

**Chapter Thirty-One: The World Keeps Turning**

 **March 19, 2011**

"Is this the only market in Brockton Bay?" Fi asked Taylor as they walked through the edges of the Marketplace. After the impromptu commemoration, Fi had stood silently for a long while, and then slowly wandered back into the stalls of the Market.

At Fi's insistence, Jason and Taylor were both walking to her right, so that she could see them both at the same time. Intrepid sort of wished they could bracket her, but he understood why Contract didn't want to have anyone, even a teammate, walking directly in her blind spot, and it was far easier to read their lips when they were both walking on the same side of her.

"Um, I think there's an Asian market for fresh fish and whatever, but I've never been."

"Could we go?" Contract asked casually, and Intrepid shared a glance with Beetle.

"Um, it's kinda in ABB territory," Beetle ventured.

"I don't want to make a fuss. But I could do with some good, hot chicken feet about now."

"Really?" Intrepid interjected, before he caught himself. "I mean, you like that stuff?"

"Sure. It's a very unique texture. And many markets sell fresh or cooked food in addition to groceries and the like."

Beetle and Intrepid shared another glance and, and Beetle shrugged. Intrepid pulled out his phone to text Clockblocker to get his opinion on a shopping trip in enemy territory, when Beetle suddenly stiffened.

A regular-looking guy had just turned away from a stall on their left, and his eyes were wide. He put out a hand, and Contract saw it out of the corner of her eye. They all stopped, tense, but the man wasn't a threat.

"Are you Contract?" he whispered reverently.

"I am," she said, her tone even and her body tense.

"Bless you, child," he whispered, and it was nearly lost in the sudden rustling of noises and voices that had picked up.

A moment ago they'd been three figures wandering with the direction of the crowd, dressed colorfully but acting so casually that they'd been sort of over-looked before people even really noticed them. Now they were a stationary object in the middle of the road, and human eyes were picking them out easily through the contrast.

Within moments, there was a swell of thank yous, well wishes, sympathies, and gratitude being poured out, as people reached out to touch them, shake their hands, and generally crowd up close. Intrepid held down the home button on his phone to send out a panic call.

Contract smiled, nodded at various people, but pressed back toward Beetle. Still, the crowd grew bolder, inflating in size as people started actively moving in their direction, following rumors or just to generally investigating the uproar.

Contract's shoulders were tense, her weight balanced, her eyes darting from face to face as she swung her head around, trying to track the crowd even as she kept smiling. Intrepid didn't think it was coincidence that Contract had put her back to her teammates. She was entering fight-or-flight mode, and was really only considering the first option.

Then there was a buzzing that had nothing to do with human voices, and it was like an insect swarm just burst out of the ground beneath their feet, flying up between the Wards and the crowd. The front people pulled back reflexively, but the burst was over in just a second. In the pause that followed, Beetle's voice carried without her having to shout.

"I'm terribly sorry about that, folks. It's just that I'm afraid we're a bit late for an important meeting, so we really do need to be going. Thank you for all of your support." Beetle had an arm around Contract and was pulling her forward even as she finished the short little speech, and the crowd parted around her, still a little startled.

Intrepid dropped behind the girls, covering their backs, and nodded and smiled to the people who let them through. He received mostly sheepish smiles or awed looks in return. In his left hand, he pressed his phone's home button over and over in a steady rhythm, to cut off the panic signal. Even so, by the time they made it to the end of the Market, Miss Militia and a PRT squad were waiting for them with a transport van.

Contract didn't protest or hesitate to climb inside, which said something about how shaken she felt.

"Next time, we go for obscurity," Beetle joked. Contract smiled, and it was less fake but more tired than the ones she had offered to the crowd. They'd gone out in costume, on the logic that they would be free to use their powers if they ran into trouble. They hadn't considered that the costumes might _be_ the trouble.

"Lesson learned," Intrepid quipped back, which made Contract laugh a little. It was hard to tell, but it looked like maybe Miss Militia's eyes had crinkled too.

* * *

After returning to the Ward's base and debriefing on the panic signal and surrounding situation, Clockblocker invited Contract into the Wards' private office. With a tip of her head, she invited Intrepid to join them, and he did.

As soon as the door was shut, Dennis pulled his mask off and Fi and Jason followed his example. "How are you doing, Phoenix?"

"Okay. For now, at least. I've done what I can do, what I had to do, and… I don't know. I'm functioning."

"That's good to hear. I've got a couple updates for you. Do you care where we start?"

"Yeah. I do." She swallowed, glanced at Jason, then turned her shoulders so she squarely faced Dennis. "I understand why you froze me last night. It's your power, so it's your judgment call. Whatever. I know that I can't tell you never to do it again. But don't you _dare_ do it lightly."

Dennis blinked, obviously not expecting to have this particular conversation right now. "You, ah, know about that?"

"I figured it out."

Dennis nodded, slowly, like he was thinking. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"It didn't hurt, exactly. Like I said, I can rationalize the decision. But I could also rationalize why you were being a jerk when I first showed up. I didn't like the attitude then and I don't like the decision now. So don't do it again without a _damned good_ reason."

"I promise." They held eye contact for a while, staring into each other's faces, and then Fi nodded and sat back.

"So what did _you_ want to talk about?"

"I was going to tell you about some of the stuff we've been handling, so it doesn't catch you by surprise. Media, world attention, speculation, things like that."

Fi nodded again, and this time she was the one looking thoughtful. "No further sign of any of the Endbringers, I take it?"

"No," Dennis reassured her. "And best as we can guess, we won't see them again. Especially since we've tied Eidolon to their reappearance, however loosely, if it does happen."

"Okay. What else?"

"The President called. He wants to meet you and give you a medal, I think. I was with Armsmaster when Dragon patched the call to him. Evidently, Armsmaster is your legal guardian.

"Armsmaster told him that you're doing alright, but you weren't interested in visitors or taking any trips just yet. He promised to set something up at a more convenient time. I think I heard the president giving Armsmaster some sort of personal or priority number in case he needed anything, but I'm not positive. So that's one satisfied customer.

"Director Costa-Brown was a minute behind him, and then the Australian and Canadian Prime Ministers got in on the act. I left at that point to coordinate other parts of the response. Armsmaster tried to talk Dragon into helping him write a form letter he could email to the United Nations, but she told him that he had to take at least a couple more calls in person. I think she was already screening them down to the highest priority, though."

Fi looked stunned, absolutely shocked, at this news. "The President of the United States? POTUS? _That_ President?"

Dennis opened his mouth to speak, then took in her face, and answered more slowly. "What did you expect? You just destroyed the entities that destroy countries. You proved that it wasn't a one-time trick or an act. The satellite video of the Simurgh vanishing has gone viral. There's already a dozen memes about you."

Fi's jaw hung open completely, and it looked just as awkward in real life as it did in cartoons. "But, we made it clear that Eidolon helped."

Dennis was looking just as confused as Fi, now. "No, Fi, we said that you tapped into Eidolon like you tapped into Behemoth. Behemoth didn't defeat himself, and a lot of people aren't giving that much credit to Eidolon, either. I mean, yeah, he's getting credit and accolades. A ton of people who said he was losing his touch are now screaming his praises, because he had a dynokinesis on par with Behemoth's, but in their minds _you're_ the one that killed them."

Fi shut her eyes and tipped back her head, breathing through her nose as she internalized everything they'd just said. With her senses thus cut off, Jason talked to Dennis while watching Fi just in case. "Did you know Armsmaster was her legal guardian?"

" _He_ didn't know until this morning. Did _she_ know? She didn't flinch."

"I don't think she cares. It doesn't mean anything to her yet." Jason stopped talking as she tipped her head back down to look at Dennis again.

"Okay, tell me the bad news."

Dennis shrugged. "There's relatively little bad news. There are the occasional people who say that it's your fault that the Simurgh was early, or wondering if we've just traded three known Endbringers for six more unknown ones that will attack even faster, but they're shot down really fast. The public is overwhelmingly on your side.

"Before the Simurgh vanished, there were a couple news sources that were criticizing you for not being there in Canberra, even though the death toll was really low. Four of those news websites were crashed before the Simurgh disappeared, from all sorts of people spamming the comments, trolling the servers, and just generally expressing their displeasure. After the Simurgh was gone, the rest went down pretty fast. General consensus was already speculating that you'd done something even before we got word out."

Dennis took a deep breath, and tried to judge Fi's mood, but she was just sitting and listening. After a beat he continued. "Both your interviews have gone completely viral as well, with very positive feedback. There's even an online drive to fund the ferry rebuild project, and it's getting a lot of money. After it hit a million dollars, someone pointed out that nearly every city has a project like that, or a school like Winslow.

"Immediately, there were funds set up for Winslow and the fifty worst high schools around the country, as well as various other projects, mostly in major cities. They're calling them 'capeless' funds, on the idea that this is a way for 'capeless heroes' to make a difference. The numbers are climbing so fast it's hard to keep track. Three construction companies have already stepped up to do infrastructure work for reduced prices in Boston, LA, and New York."

"You're back to the positives," Fi cut in with a confused frown. "Tell me about the crises. What needs to be done?"

"Nothing," Dennis said, equally confused. "That's what I'm trying to tell you. It's all good so far. Or near enough."

Fi stared at him for a long moment, and then she crumpled, crying. Jason was half-expecting it, and moved his chair over so that he could put a hand across her back.

She'd been fine as long as there was something to do: confronting the Triumvirate, planning Ash's commemoration, talking to the reporters, talking to Dragon, remembering Ash. Now that it was over, she didn't have anything to hold onto.

Fi buried her head in her hands, and Jason looked up at Dennis without breaking the rhythm he was slowly rubbing into her shoulders. "This is good, I think. It means she feels safe."

Dennis slowly sank back into his seat, looking less alarmed, and then he came around the desk and knelt beside Fi. "It's okay," his whispered and he put a hand on her knee.

Awkwardly, Jason cleared his throat. "She can't hear you."

Dennis grimaced. "That is way too easy to forget."

Jason wanted to say that it wasn't, really, but he didn't. Jason himself had forgotten that Fi was being held against her will mere hours after she'd laid out her reasons for all to see. No one was perfect, and all they could each do was their best.

"She wanted to go to an Asian food market," Jason said, while Fi sobbed between them. He kept up the steady circles, because he thought he could hear her sobs starting to synch up with them. If they did, he might be able to slowly calm her down after she cried herself out for a while.

"The one on Canton? It's practically on Lung's front door."

"We could go in civilian dress."

"No less than four Wards. You, Taylor, me, and either Dean or Missy."

"That will make us more conspicuous, _and_ leave us hesitant to power up."

Dennis chewed his lower lip. "It's dangerous."

"You realize that Taylor basically already lives in ABB territory? And I'm not far from the center of the Empire for that matter. Practically the whole city belongs to somebody."

"That's why Armsmaster let her move into the PRT," Dennis explained patiently, and Jason realized that he hadn't told Dennis anything that the long-time Brockton Bay Ward didn't already know. Jason was still becoming accustomed to the new status quo he was living in, but for Dennis this was just how life was.

Dennis sighed. "How about if Vista, Kid Win, and I happen to be on a patrol in the neighborhood, while you and Dean take Fi to the market? We'll be far enough away not to put them too on edge, but close in case Dean picks up anything suspicious."

Jason nodded, liking this idea better. Gallant would be able to watch for trouble before it was apparent, and even though Clockblocker hadn't mentioned her, Intrepid knew they wouldn't be leaving Beetle behind.

* * *

"I'm a little embarrassed that all this is necessary," Fi said in a normal conversational tone, as she fingered several vegetables that looked like very large cloves of garlic, or perhaps very small onions. She chose two and started yet another round of haggling with yet another street vendor.

The plan had actually come together better than Jason should have realistically hoped.

When Jason had finally remembered to call home and check in, his mother had insisted that he be home for dinner since the crisis was passed. Jason had then explained that the crisis wasn't really over, because he was kinda the closest thing that Fi had to family, and his mom had insisted that he come home for dinner and bring Fi along too.

Jason had tried to argue that she was under protective custody until the world calmed down, and his mom had promptly invited the whole Wards team over. (And really, knowing his mother, Jason should have seen that one coming.)

Then his mother had panicked that she didn't have enough food in the house to feed seven hungry teenagers. Somehow, Fi had understood enough from his side of the conversation to offer to help his mom cook. Fi's volume control was not quite as fine-tuned as she thought, so his mother had heard, and after an awkward conversation with him in the middle, it had been determined that Fi actually loved to cook, wanted to share a favorite recipe with his mother, and it would definitely feed nine people, but she needed to track down several specialty ingredients.

So here they were, two plains-clothes Wards and four dressed ones escorting Fi to go grocery shopping on Lung's lawn. Jason wasn't completely sure that there wasn't a PRT squad or Protectorate response team on standby, just in case. There had to be a punch-line in there somewhere.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Jason was able to answer her as she handed over her cash with two hands, and accepted the wrapped produce the same way. "We'll figure out a new normal eventually. We just don't need any more fireworks today."

Fi hummed agreement as she stepped up to another stand, this one littered with dishes full of powder. The labels were all in a character language that he guessed was Chinese, but might have been Elfish for all he knew. The seller spoke only in a native language, and Fi ended up doing a lot of pointing, though she did know a few words or at least enough that she successfully bought five little envelopes with two scoops of power each.

"Spices," she explained as they walked away, "since I doubt your mother's kitchen stocks these. Just one more stop now."

The last stall? Fresh-caught, freshly-butchered, eyes-in eel. No joke.

* * *

"Where did you learn to cook?" Taylor asked, as Fi showed her the best ways to pull the bones out of the eels she had bought. Jason's mom was watching from the other side of the kitchen, where she was cutting vegetables, smiling indulgently.

"All over the place. Anywhere I could get a lesson, really. There's only so much diner food a girl can eat," Fi answered in her typical fashion, where she sounded witty but explained nothing of substance. Mentally, Jason cataloged another detail about Fi's previous mysteriously nomadic lifestyle.

Fi turned away to check on the vegetable shredding, and his mom took the opportunity to speak while Fi was facing her. "You know you really didn't have to help with dinner, don't you?"

Fi smiled at her, and paused in her flurry of motion to actually answer. "I know that, Mrs. Wilson. But I like cooking. I like the creativity, the control. I like being able to do something nice for people I like. It's therapeutic."

"I know exactly how you feel, Phoenix. And I told you, call me Emily ." Fi's smile grew, and she nodded her agreement. A timer went off, and Emily touched Fi's arm before she could turn back to the eels. "What do we need to do next for the sauce?"

Fi went to the stove, lifted the lid, and inhaled deeply, before reaching for the vodka she'd previously measured and set aside. "This isn't a perfect substitute, but it's close enough. I didn't think even Lung would sell sake to minors in open daylight. This will reduce down for another ten or twenty minutes."

Jason dutifully reached over to the microwave to set the next timer, then returned to his seat to watch the women move around the kitchen. In the background, he could hear Dennis, Missy, and Dean working out the protection rosters for the next couple of days, assuming that Fi decided to stay here.

He also reminded himself to call everyone by their cape names. The Wards, minus Fi, had brought domino masks to use during dinner so that they could eat, and Dean was actually in civilian dress, but they'd all decided not to give their names to his parents, which was understandable but complicated. Fi, on the other hand, had boldly introduced herself as "Phoenix, call me Fi," without hesitation or mention of her cape name.

Chris wandered over with his dad a minute later, coming in from the garage and the mountain of unfinished projects it contained.

"Really, Mr. Wilson, I don't know how much help I can be. Anything I designed would need tinker maintenance, and trying to explain tinkertech to civilians is a trick the PRT has been trying in vain to manage for years."

"Richard, honey, don't make him call you Mr. Wilson. These are Jason's teammates!" His mother teased without turning around.

His dad sighed. "I know, Emily. I've told him twice already."

Chris blushed, and Jason felt some sympathy for his teammates. His parents were warm individuals, genuinely hospitable and incredibly kind. But they were also tall, and both had a tendency to dress impeccably and speak precisely which made it very easy to want to fall back on formality. More than once he'd slipped naturally into calling them Father or Mother, always to the amusement of them both.

"Now that the bones are out, we can carve out the fillets," Fi told Taylor, oblivious to her growing audience. Emily, entranced by the process of butchering the eel, turned away from the vegetables to watch as Fi deftly sliced the long, white muscle into portion-sized fillets.

"You want to cut with the pattern of the muscle, and since we removed the bones first we can go all the way up to the spine. If you try to cut with the spine in, you can break off bone fragments and they're simply impossible to find."

Fi handled the knife like an extension of her own hand, and Jason added "knife skills" to his glimpses of Fi's background. In short order, she had two plates stacked with fillets on the counter beside her and the tray with the eels contained only their heads, bones, and scales.

"Now we toss this stuff, and prep the fillets for the grill."

Dean, who had wandered over and brought his co-conspirators with him, stepped forward to gather up the scraps and remove them from the kitchen. Fi glanced up, saw her audience, and then leaned toward Taylor conspiratorially, though she didn't actually lower her volume.

"If we were really ambitious, we could use all that - the bones and the eyes especially - in the sauce. Let it all stew together and then strain out the chunks. Of course, when you do that the eyes melt, so in deference to the plebian pallet I chose to pass this time."

Taylor grinned back at her as Dennis made gagging motions. "I think that was wise."

Jason watched as the girls started the next part of the meal, then grabbed Dennis and pulled him into the living room, and up the stairs to his private room.

"Protection sorted?" he asked, eager to get down to business and then get back to the kitchen.

Dennis nodded, equally serious. "Yes. Assuming she stays here. If she's going to be out in public, we need more than two Wards on duty. And if she's in the base, we can probably cut down to just one."

"I thought there were three on duty, myself and two more?"

Dennis was already shaking his head. "You're on 'keep Fi sane and not suicidal' duty. The two Ward rotation is on 'keep Fi safe from attack and whatever else needs doing' duty."

Jason nodded, hating that it was even necessary, but far preferring to err to the side of caution. Dennis spoke again, obviously worried. "Did you know that she knew about the freezing thing?"

"No." Dennis gave him a disbelieving glance. "She didn't mention it to me. I figured she probably knew but forgot because it was just overshadowed by everything else. I didn't know she was going to bring it up." Jason paused, but he felt compelled to tack on, "I wouldn't have come in if I did. There was no reason for me to see that."

Dennis heaved a sigh, but waved away the concern. "No, it's fine. I mean, do I want you attending every dressing down? No. But if Fi wants you there for something, it's probably good that you're there." His gaze suddenly sharpened. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine," Jason answered automatically, surprised by the inquiry.

"Really? Because I'm not." Dennis raised a hand and started ticking off points before Jason could figure out what he wanted to say. "Let's start with last night. We find out that Taylor is probably a lot more seriously messed up than we thought, given her trigger event was what it was. Then we find out that Fi has been raped. And that she murdered her rapist and his friends. And that her family was shockingly okay with that."

Dennis paused, his four fingers extended, then pulled them back in and started the count over. "This is immediately overshadowed by the Simurgh coming months early, which triggers the first contact that Fi has had with her family, and we get front row seats to a murder. Fi flips, and we all spend a night shell shocked."

Again, Dennis reset his count, which had reached four fingers. "Cue this morning's very weird rollercoaster of puking and praying. And then we finally get details on Fi's power mechanics, which she only gives us so that we keep up as she confronts the Triumvirate."

Another four fingers were relaxed, and Dennis gave up on counting all together. "Then we discover that Fi has been tortured, by some organization that Legend is a part of, but possibly somehow also ignorant of. However, the other heroes did know about it, and probably in greater detail. Oh, and this organization is protected by a precognitive murderer that forces everyone to keep its secret. And then we discover that Eidolon created the Endbringers, whereupon Fi powers up Eidolon who kills the Endbringers, and we have to lie to the world because of the aforementioned murderous precog."

He paused, staring at Jason, who was mostly just waiting for the rant to end. Finally, Dennis moaned, "How are you okay with all of that?"

Jason shrugged. "I sorta knew there was something fishy going on. I knew that Fi wasn't a fan of Legend, and that whatever it was must be pretty big because it also involved Triumph and Aegis. I also knew she didn't like the rest of the Triumvirate, either for the same reason or for their own reasons.

"Plus, I saw how they treated her in New York. And I was on the inside of the whole Sophia mess, so I was already getting really used to the idea that heroes aren't perfect. I've _been_ getting used to it for months.

"As for the Ash thing, well… I'm just worrying about Fi. That's the only part of this I can affect. She needs me, so I'm there for her. I can't worry about the Endbringers, or the weird organization, or the Triumvirate, or the precog. The things that can be controlled, like the media, are being handled by you guys. The other stuff, we don't get a say in. So I don't dwell on it."

Dennis couldn't have looked more shocked if Jason had grown a second head. "That's it?"

Jason shrugged. "What do you want me to say?"

Dennis snorted and shook his head. "I am so glad Fi has you to lean on, and not me. Because I'm secretly freaking out inside."

"You're hiding it well."

Now it was Dennis' turn to shrug. "I need to keep up a good face for the team. Otherwise Missy is going to try to walk to New York and give the Triumvirate a piece of her mind."

Jason grinned at the image. "She should wait a couple days. Anger is a stage of grief, and I have a feeling that Fi is going to do anger pretty magnificently."

Dennis raised a hand to shield his eyes dramatically. "Don't say things like that! Fate might be listening!" He dropped the hand, and the sarcasm. "How are your parents taking everything?"

"You mean the very little that they actually know?" Jason reminded his leader.

Dennis waved his hand in the same dismissive gesture. "They know enough. They know that you just put yourself in the middle of the media circus after avoiding it successfully for a month and a half. They know that you're the most visible soft spot of a cape who eats Endbringers. What do they think about Fi? About Intrepid and Contract?"

Jason sighed. "They're not thrilled, but they understand. My mom would prefer that being a cape was like being in a school club: something to do with my time, but not necessarily dictating my future. That being said, they understand the importance of what I did in New York. They're proud of me.

"And when she heard that Fi needed me, well, my mom's got a big heart. If Fi isn't careful, the guest room is going to become her room permanently. They probably haven't thought about the safety risks. I'm not sure I've really thought about the safety risks. But they're not going to cause a scene or anything."

"BOYS! DINNER!" Jason's mom hollered up the stairs. The two heroes shared a glance as they left the room.

"You really trust us to handle, well, everything except Fi?"

Jason shrugged. "Sure. I mean, Fi trusts you, and you've given us no reason not to trust you."

"Huh," Dennis grunted as the entered the dining room.

The table was a little crowded, with seven Wards and both of Jason's parents, even after adding in the extra table leaf, but it was worth it to sit down to the frankly heavenly-smelling meal.

There was a rice-and-vegetable stir fry to compliment the eel fillet, and a sauce that wasn't teriyaki, but Jason didn't have anything closer to compare it to, to drizzle over the whole plate.

"I know there's a lot y'all can't talk about," his dad said almost as soon as everyone was seated, as the plates were still being passed around. "So if Emily or I ask anything insensitive you be sure to tell us so. We want to be friendly, not pressure you."

"Richard is perfectly correct. We hardly got to see Jason's last team at all, and we want you to be comfortable here," his mom chimed in.

"Thank you," Missy answered as she handed Jason the platter of fillets. "That does make this a little easier. It's not that we want to keep secrets, but…"

"Nonsense, Vista!" Emily interjected, "Secrets keep you and your teammates safe, my son included. I'm a fan of secrets."

She smiled winningly at the table, and the other Wards chuckled with her. Jason couldn't help but beam at his mom, who always seemed to know what to say to help set people at ease. Sometimes he wished that he had inherited half of her diplomacy.

"What do you think the fallout of today's events will be?" Richard asked as he gathered the last of the now-depleted platters and moved them over to the sideboard to make more room on the table.

Jason could feel Dennis' eyes on him, and knew that his team leader was thinking about all the consequences that the world would never see or know about, because they knew such a tiny fraction of the whole story.

"Another world-wide party and hangover," Dean offered. "Probably more cautious, at first, because there will be some people that are waiting for a new Endbringer, or some other form of escalation.

"The Simurgh attacking early threw a lot of people really off-kilter, and everyone is going to hold their breath in case something else freaky happens. It may take up to six months for the true skeptics. But I think most of the public is out getting drunk tonight, particularly in cities previously hit by the Endbringers."

"You should have seen people this afternoon," Chris volunteered. "We did a patrol by the docks and nearly got mobbed. Mostly people were congratulatory, but there was a lot of curiosity too. I think Gallant's right about the skepticism."

"I heard very little skepticism today at the office," Richard volunteered.

"Oh, what do you do?" Missy asked, leaning around Jason to see his dad a little better. Jason looked toward his father too, and in doing so, caught Fi's eye. She smiled at him, but it was a forced, trying-too-hard sort of smile.

Jason's stomach dropped as he realized the problem. There were too many people in the room, half of them were facing away from her, and all of them were eating. It was hard for her to know who was talking, and hard for her to read their lips anyway if she did know.

In the flow of normal conversation, people tended to look toward the speaker, helping her to follow the topic. But right now, people were looking at their plates, at their drinks, and not necessarily at whoever she needed to be watching.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, knowing that she'd read his lips without needing any volume.

"I'm okay," she murmured back, for once speaking with a subtle volume when she intended to. "It's good to be in a home, and I really did enjoy cooking. Thank you." Her smile was a little firmer this time, but he didn't totally believe that she was okay. Still, there wasn't a lot he could do at the moment.

So he moved his leg just slightly so that it was touching hers, making clear that she was not alone, and then tuned into the general conversation. As he glanced away, he was able to watch out of the corner of his eye as Fi relaxed. She didn't look totally miserable, but she did look tired, and a little forlorn.

Jason's eye caught Dean's next, and he offered Jason the tiniest of nods.

* * *

When dinner was over, and the dishes were done, and the Wards had all gone home, Jason helped Fi set up a sleeping bag in the guest room.

"Don't go," she whispered, sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall. "I don't want to be alone yet."

Cautiously, aware of the fact that his parents were just down the hall and that somewhere in the house, Battery and Assault were keeping night watch, Jason came back into the room and sat down next to Fi.

She was staring at her hands, twisting them over and over.

"You're a remarkable person. Do you know that?" she said as she looked up and caught his eyes, and the intensity there stopped him from breathing.

"Fi, I," his voice broke and he cleared his throat.

Confusion flashed on her face and then vanished, to be replaced by a sad smile. "No, Jason, I'm not hitting on you. I doubt I'll be in a mentally healthy place for quite some time. I… I guess I'm delaying." She cleared her own throat awkwardly. "I'm doing this all wrong."

"Just, start at the beginning," he said, glad to be let off the hook. It wasn't that he didn't like Fi, but he did agree that with everything going on her life, they didn't need to add another complication.

"Okay. I've dropped a lot of hints about my past. To you, more than to anyone else, I've given glimpses. We're still under contract to be honest with each other, so you can be sure that everything I tell you tonight will be the truth. But… Jason… the answers you've been very patiently waiting for, they're _world changing_. And changing your world view isn't a comfortable or easy experience. I beg you, if you have any doubts at all, doubts about me, or about wanting to know, or about wanting to turn your world on its ear, _stop me now_."

She fell silent then, just staring at him. He turned over what she had said. It was hard to believe that she had more to tell him, things that might be more world changing that what they'd already learned earlier that day.

On the other hand, he'd believe Fi even if it wasn't for the contract, and when she warned him away from information in the past, it had been with good reason. In the end, his desire to know outweighed whatever caution his common sense offered.

"Tell me."


	32. Fairytales

**Chapter Thirty-Two: Fairytales**

 **March 19, 2011**

Fi took a deep breath, then sat further back against the wall, getting comfortable. "There's really no good way to tell you all of this. There's too much, and no real beginning, and it's all wrapped up together. So stop me and ask questions when you fall behind, but know that this isn't a simple explanation."

Jason nodded silently, encouraging her to continue.

When Fi spoke again, it was resolute, all traces of confusion and hesitance gone. "Let's start with my deal, earlier today. As soon as Taylor suggested hacking the Endbringers by upgrading Eidolon, my gut reaction was to recoil. Even though I'd just seen his shame after his name was read off, even though I was profiling his guilt and confusion and self-hatred, even though I knew he wanted them dead as surely as I did, my gut reaction was loathing. That's when I knew that I could make the deal.

"The problem was trying to hold onto that level of gut-instinct when at the same time, my entire conscious mind was trying to figure out if I could trust him. I realized I did trust him to destroy the Endbringers, because when he found out he was the source, I got the impression of self-hatred. That realization put the contract back out of my reach.

"So I focused on the other realization I had: I definitely don't trust him with _power_. He knew that a shadow organization was torturing people, and he didn't care. Even after realizing that they'd created the Endbringers, he didn't hate _them_ , he hated _himself_. So he's not worthy or trustworthy of power in general. With that in mind, the first clause of the contract became, 'give Eidolon conscious control over his power in such a way as to allow him to handle the Endbringers however he wishes' with an emphasis on the first half.

"On a scale of 'how much do I hate this' that clause alone was pretty well balanced. You might even say that it was heavy on the cost. But my contracts have a two-clause minimum: they have to consist of both a cost and an effect at least. Additionally, costs can't be imposed on other people without trust. So to create a permanent effect of altering Eidolon's powers, _I_ had to pay a permanent cost, and I had to pay it fast while I still hated Eidolon more than I hated the Endbringers.

"I only had one thing available to me. I'd been working on another contract, trying to get it to balance. A way to give myself offensive power I could draw on regularly so that I could be a useful Ward and parahuman without exposing my true power to the world. I'd already decided that I wanted telekinesis, including a short-range blaster effect or application, and a heads-up danger-sense precognition.

"I threw that into the contract along with the first clause, and then added permanent deafness as the cost. I focused, knew it would work, and knew my window of opportunity was closing. So I threw in one last effect and slammed the contract shut."

Her gaze, already piercing, grew a little more intense. "If I had to trust Eidolon, I wanted the chance to trust someone I actually believe deserves it, too. So for tonight, and tonight only, you and I can do or say whatever we wish, and no one, anywhere, will pay attention to it. We simply aren't important to the world, or anyone or anything in it, right now."

She fell silent, and Jason took a deep breath, processing everything he'd heard. "So, let me get this straight. In exchange for your hearing loss, and empowering an enemy, you got to destroy the Endbringers, get a sidekick, and become a Jedi?"

Fi blinked, stunned. Then her mouth dropped open, and she laughed. Jason found himself laughing too. It was ridiculous, because it was a serious topic, a world-changing topic, but once the tension broke it all seemed to drain out of them as hysterical laughter.

After several minutes, they were both wiping the corners of their eyes and they had stopped looking at each other, trying to get the laughing under control. Jason moved to sit beside Fi on the sleeping bag, leaning back against the wall, thinking more seriously about what she had told him.

This was just the tip of the iceberg, and he knew that. He could sense that there was more to come. After he'd learned that Legend was party to torturing Fi, he'd gone into shock. Then there had been hints that the other two had probably known too, but that had been sort of lost behind the fact that the Endbringers had been Eidolon's fault, and had dealt with. Or at least, put under Eidolon's more direct control.

Then Gallant had reported that Legend actually _didn't_ know what was going on, but the other two most likely _did_. Jason had shoved that aside for a couple reasons. First, he was focused on helping Fi, and getting pissed at the Triumvirate could wait. Second, Clockblocker had made a good point about the terrifying precog limiting their ability to retaliate or maneuver. Third, Vista and Clockblocker seemed to have being paranoid and angry covered.

The first and third reasons no longer seemed as relevant, at least not right now, and the second was covered by the deal. Still, it didn't hurt to check.

"So… that clause… you're sure it will cover the precog you mentioned?"

"Let's call him Clyde, for now. That's the nickname Ash and I used. I've taken a couple other precautions, in case the contract isn't enough, but it should be."

"Other precautions?"

"Earlier tonight, when I was cooking, I used a tiny accident as an excuse to burn rowan shavings and a little St. John's Wort. Both are useful against all sorts of future sight, and we've found them to be useful against parahuman precogs. If not for the contract, we'd do more. But too much protection can leave behind bad karma after it's removed, since your parents are unbelievers."

Jason felt himself blinking at her, but she wasn't looking at him. She was staring at her hands instead. "This is what I meant when I said it's all wrapped up together. My family… we hunt monsters, fairy tales, and legends. We're part of a legacy that's been protecting the world for thousands of years. Capes are one type of people that can use the future against us, but not the only ones."

* * *

 _"What is this?" John's face is apocalyptic, but my days of being scared by him are in the past, now. He shakes the St. John's Wart in my direction, and I sneer back instead of cowering._

 _"I'd think a hunter would recognize basic anti-scrying measures when he saw them," I bait him, pouring sarcasm into my tone. I know he's not actually confused about the plant's identity. "We're on the tail of a dementor. You don't think I'm dumb enough to scry him without first protecting us?"_

 _John opens his mouth and shuts it, at a loss for words. Something twists in my gut. I expected more shouting. He is madder, as I thought he'd be, but he's madder in a different way. I don't like it when my profile fails._

 _"Did we have more St. John's Wart?" Danny asks as he comes into the room. He's holding LeBlanc's journal, and I flinch with him, in near perfect unison, as John sees the (other hunter's) journal in his son's hands. Danny tries to soldier on. "Oh, we did. Good. Scrying turn up anything else?"_

 _John throws down the herb, strides into the room, and picks up the shotgun from where I'd put it after I finished cleaning it. He cycles the gun to load the first shell and both Danny and I flinch again, neither of us sensing whatever immediate danger is causing John to come to full preparedness. John sets himself, facing me but with a clear shot to the door and the kitchen behind him for an exit if necessary._

 _"When did you scry?" he snaps._

 _"This morning," I tell him softly, still trying to sense whatever danger has him on edge. "We sent you the info as soon as we verified it."_

 _John slowly lowers the gun into his ready-but-not-trigger-ready stance. "Hours ago?" he verifies._

 _"Yes," Danny volunteers. "We were about to do another, now that we know enough to ask better questions. Dad, what's going on?"_

 _John glances between the two of us, then grunts. "Not here."_

 _Later, John will tell us that St. John's Wart doesn't work against witches, which we already knew. He will also tell us that dementors are technically a breed of witches, not Eve's children, which we didn't know. He will tell us that LeBlanc died from that very mistake. He will say that it's a matter of luck that Danny and I didn't face the same end._

 _Much later, I and my siblings will realize that John was wrong on that last point. The firm belief of two hunters, in addition to St. John's Wart's other anti-scrying properties, had been sufficient to protect us._

* * *

"It sounds crazy. I _know_ it sounds crazy. We purposefully work to keep normal people happily ignorant of the existence of weird. For one thing, they live happier lives. For another, belief and disbelief are powerful forces. I mean, like, actually powerful. Part of how you fight a wraith or a fairy is to get less people to believe in them. It makes them less substantial."

Fi looked up at Jason, but he wasn't sure what she saw in his face. He wasn't even sure what his face looked like. Part of his brain was short-circuiting and screaming _wtf?_ but another part of him was like, _okay, well, if I can believe in lasers that bend around corners and freeze stuff, what exactly is wrong with psychics or fairies?_

"Say something," she said, after they'd sat there for an indeterminate about of time.

"Are werewolves real?" his mouth asked.

She exhaled. "Yeah. Unfortunately. We keep thinking we have them wiped out, and then another den bursts open and they infect a bunch more people."

"So… you kill werewolves?"

"Werewolves are dangerous because they go feral. The human inside is dies during the first full moon and never comes back. Before that, there are cures and we use them when possible."

"What about vampires?"

"Vampires don't lose control in the same way. If they choose self-regulation, most hunters will let them live, myself included. If they go megalomaniac though, well, they're killing people so it's kinda a matter of self-defense. So yeah, sometimes, we kill vampires."

"Don't vampires need to kill humans?"

"Not exactly. They are strongest with human blood, but they can also subsist off of donations, certain parts of dead bodies, or animal substitutes."

Jason breathed out, deeply, not quite sighing so much as just releasing some of the tension in his chest. "You're serious."

"I am."

Jason tilted his head back until it hit the wall behind him. "Why am I not freaking out right now?"

Fi chuckled. "You're made of sterner stuff than that." Jason gave her a sidelong glance. "I'm serious. I like you, as a person, but I wouldn't have told you all this if I thought it would break your mind. Some people can't handle weird, but you _can_.

"You watched me erase Behemoth, and then you still had enough logic to see when I was being railroaded. You accepted the explanation of my powers without so much as a hiccup. You accepted the fact that I had reason to hate Legend without explanation. I was pretty sure you'd be able to accept this."

* * *

 _"What the hell, Fi? You told her?"_

 _"Josh, she saw him re-attach his own head. The cat was out of the bag!"_

 _"You don't just give people the full truth. There is a right and wrong way to tell people about what is out there. Rule one is that you never, never tell anyone more than they need to know!"_

 _"You've got to be kidding me!"_

 _"People can't handle the truth. They certainly can't handle any part of the truth that they haven't seen for themselves."_

 _"You need to give people more credit."_

 _"Dammit Fi! Generations of hunters have perfected the technique of the reveal. You don't give backstory! You don't give details. You explain exactly what is happening to them at that moment, you assure them that you have everything under control, and you explain that this is unlikely to happen to them again."_

 _"Bullshit."_

 _"Fi!"_

 _"Bullshit! You know that encountering the supernatural once significantly raises the chances of a second encounter."_

 _"Statistical correlation does not imply causation."_

 _"Bullshit!"_

 _"Fi-"_

 _"No. The ignorant mind is a shield. I get that. Disbelief is an effective deterrent for most of the population. Whatever. But when you take that away, you have to tell them enough to let them prepare themselves."_

 _"She isn't prepared. She's curled in a ball, suffering from shock! She's gibbering, Fi! People aren't wired to handle the truth!"_

 _"We do."_

 _"We grew up in it."_

 _"I didn't."_

 _"You're a freak of nature. And the next time you find a freak of nature, you can give them full disclosure. Until that day, you abide by the rules, you hear me?"_

 _"Next time you give the stupid speech."_

 _"Fine!"_

 _"Fine!"_

* * *

Jason sat with his eyes closed, trying to digest what he'd just heard. He felt like he ought to be upset, or weirded out, or even back in shock. Instead, it felt a little like when atoms had been explained to him. Hypothetically, all matter was actually 99% empty space. That was really weird on an intuitive level. But on the other hand, he'd been living in this world for a long time and knowing how the world worked didn't _really_ change anything, did it?

So he sat, and waited for the truth to hit him. After a while, Jason gave up on that. Maybe it would hit him later. Maybe it wouldn't. More importantly, he tried to think about what he needed to do in the next ten minutes.

And that's when it occurred to Jason that Fi never did anything without very good reason. A sinking feeling grew in his gut. When he opened his eyes, she was looking back at him, so he was able to put his thoughts directly into words. "Okay, so the world is weird. Is there a purpose behind telling me, or… I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm glad you can be honest, but…" he couldn't shake the feeling that there was a shoe, waiting to fall.

She chewed her lip. "I need your help. There's a decision I have to make, and I don't want to make it alone." Jason nodded, listening.

"Every other time stuff has gotten weird on planet Earth, there has been a conscious being behind it. We call them B&Bs. Big and Bads. Vampires and werewolves, as well as most other human-transforming monsters, were generated by a figure we named Eve, as in 'the mother of all,' or in this case 'the mother of all evil.'

"Fairies, wraiths, and others of the like came from a four-personality entity named Mob, as in the crowd of people. Demons answered to Lucifer. Several of the older pantheons were more real than you might imagine, and each had an order of priests, wizards, or others that they empowered in exchange for service."

Fi took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "So when capes showed up, you better believe hunters had just one question: where's the source? We have suspicions about the answer to that question, but no definite answers. From what I overheard, I'm pretty sure my kidnappers know, but they didn't say enough for me to be positive of who it might be. Whoever it is, I guarantee you, they don't mean well for Earth. B&Bs never do."

"We need a name for that organization," Jason mused, while he considered this new information.

"We'll call them Mordor, for now," Fi joked, but it fell flat. She took a deep breath. "This is where I need your help. I have to decide what I'm going to do next. There's a powerful enemy out there, and Mordor thinks they're doing what's necessary to fight them. But in doing so, they're doing shit like creating Endbringers."

She sighed, and looked away from him. He took that mean that she didn't want to be interrupted. "To be perfectly honest, that's not what I thought I'd be learning today. I expected that the answer to their origins would be Mr. Big and Bad. I was hoping there was a way to reprogram the Endbringers, or some trait we could exploit, something Mordor had learned from their experimentation perhaps.

"Today, for the first time, I have the chance to strike a decent blow at Mordor. Knowing that they've got a stake in all three of the Triumvirate… I've got the power to take those three out, and crack open the shell: there are secrets I can reveal, ways to undermine them. I finally, finally can strike out like I have wanted to do for years… and yet for the first time I _might_ have reason not to do so.

"If Mordor did produce the Endbringers… well, I mean, obviously that's bad, but it's also firepower I hadn't imagined before. It might be better to wait to take them out until after we deal with B&B. On the other hand, they accidentally produced the Endbringers, who were a potential extinction event in their own right. I don't know if it's more dangerous to let them live or try to handle them."

Jason touched her shoulder, drawing her attention. "It sounds like you're trying to convince yourself that it's okay to go after them. Like maybe you already know that's not the right answer and you don't like it?"

Fi huffed, but nodded. "It's possible."

Jason inhaled, then. He thought about not pushing her, about waiting, but who knew when they'd have another chance to talk? He needed to ask. "Should we try to work with them?"

Fi outright snorted. "Hell no."

"Put your feelings aside," he urged her, displeased with her immediate response. Fi's face set stubbornly, so he reached out, grabbed her knee to convey his seriousness, and said very slowly, "This is the fate of the world we're talking about."

"And what would happen if we tried to work with them? Option one, there's a good chance they don't listen. They have what they believe to be an all-powerful precog, except he _never saw_ Ash. That means there's a good chance he never saw anything else weird either." Seeming to realize she hadn't told him this part yet, she backtracked.

"Ash was one-fourth vampire. He was a blind spot for every precog or psychic we ever encountered. Since Mordor didn't kill him, and Ash was able to help me investigate Mordor, chances are that Clyde couldn't see him or myself."

Then she came back on track. "If Clyde can't see weird and they're used to relying on Clyde, then they won't believe us."

"Option two is that Clyde can't see us, but they still believe me anyway. The problem here is that no two B&Bs have ever been defeated the same way. Some tricks cross over, but they're never as effective with new weird as they were with the old weird they were developed for. So I can't hand them the perfect gun to just gank B&B, so there's a good chance Mordor decides we know too much to be safe but not enough to be useful. They wipe our memories, keep us locked up, kill us, or otherwise curb us."

"A good chance?" Jason interjected, sensing paranoia. He also sensed a subtle railroading, Fi trying to lay out all her logic before Jason could decide which part to argue with. It probably wasn't conscious, but it was still an effective tactic if he didn't interrupt.

Fi hesitated, then acknowledged his point. "Well, maybe not a good chance, but a higher chance than I'd like. People will justify a lot if you put humanity on the other side of the scale. What's more is that we don't gain anything in that scenario."

Jason had been about to argue about the probability of mind-altering silencing techniques, but decided to wait and see what she meant by that.

"Mordor gets distracted trying to find an answer in hunter records, which hunters are already searching through," Fi continued, and Jason had to concede that it would be his first reaction to discovering an archive of secret histories about saving the world.

Fi wasn't finished yet. "But Mordor doesn't share anything with us, most likely. Not even Legend knew about what they're doing, and he's running their pet national hero team. They're not going to tell another sister secret organization."

"Maybe they would," Jason interrupted her again, "End of the world and all." Jason wasn't sure why he was pushing back so hard against Fi's assumptions. It wasn't that he had a great love of the Triumvirate, or that he really trusted Mordor, or that he didn't trust Fi.

It was more that someone needed to make sure that Fi wasn't running hog-wild in her chain of assumptions and logic, and as her friend and teammate that someone was him.

Fi got a sour look on her face, but didn't immediately argue. She turned it over and over in her head, thinking. "It's a pretty big risk, and one we wouldn't control once it was set in motion. See previous point about them silencing people they don't like."

"Against the end of the world?"

Fi cross her arms, frustrated. "It's not risk free, and it's not something we can just take back if it screws up. If Mordor shuts down the hunters, they could be destroying the only chance to save the world. Hunters live in secret, yes. We keep secrets from the world, yes. But we don't flat out kill people who learn those secrets, and Clyde, or Mordor, does."

Jason nodded to concede the point. "I guess just leaving them alone isn't a safe option either, is it?"

"Not if they're making Endbringers _on accident_. And more than that, unknowingly."

Jason sighed. "Unless they're batshit insane, they're not trying to end the world. Maybe, now that they know they produced the Endbringers, they'll change tactics." It was probably an empty hope, but someone needed to play devil's advocate here.

"Maybe they won't. They can think they're doing right, and still be playing Russian roulette with the world."

"Well, who are they giving powers to? I mean, you said yourself that Eidolon didn't want to be killing people. He's trying to be a hero. And Legend and Triumph and Aegis aren't bad guys. Neither are you for that matter."

"I don't have an exact roster, but I know it's a lot of capes. Even more than I previously thought, because I didn't know about Eidolon and Alexandria. It's both heroes and villains, I know that. Have you heard of case fifty-threes?"

Jason shrugged to indicate that he'd heard the term, but wasn't very familiar with it. She continued without breaking her stride. "They're capes with body modifications, and often no memory from before they became a cape. Both heroes and villains, like I said.

"So far, neither Ash nor I have been able to track down a single cape with a body modification that didn't come out of one of Mordor's vials. We can't confirm every one of them, but we've never found one that definitely didn't.

"Sometimes they use cat's paws, but Ash traced them all back eventually. Or, if someone else was doing the tracing for us, they ended up dead. Some of the capes do come out normal, too, though. Alexandria, for example."

"As far as we know, anyway," Jason pointed out. "She could be hiding modification under the costume." Contract nodded, conceding the point.

Jason blew out a big breath. "I don't feel like we can answer this tonight. I know it's important, I know waiting is not a totally safe choice, but I don't think we can make a snap decision."

"But…" she protested, but he didn't let her get started again.

"Fi, it's been less than a day since the world got turned on its head for both of us, many times over. Mordor has been around for decades. They're not going anywhere, and they haven't killed us all yet. We need to take the time to do this right."

* * *

 _The door opens cautiously, still chained. "Fi, what are you doing here?"_

 _I can't meet Brooks' gaze. "Jo didn't call?"_

 _"She said you disappeared." He doesn't open the door or remove the chain, and I know that he won't until I prove my identity. Unfortunately, Brooks doesn't stock the usual test materials, especially in his college dorm room. With the rash of shifters running around, code words are insufficient._

 _"I…" My voice breaks, and I realize that there's nothing I can say to get Brooks to open the door. I look back down at my shoes, and the confession that I tried to run from bubbles out instead, "Jo could have been killed."_

 _Brooks sighs, and then he shuts the door and the chain rattles. He really shouldn't open the door. I could be anything. But Brooks isn't a field hunter, so he isn't paranoid enough. He's a librarian, a damn good librarian, maybe the best one alive, but still a librarian. He opens the door, stands aside, and I walk in, shame weighing every step._

 _"Fi, Jo knew the risks."_

 _"No. I screwed this up."_

 _"Wendigo are always tough cases. You did the best you could."_

 _"We could have taken another day. If I hadn't pushed, if I hadn't made myself bait, if I had just stopped, and let Danny finish his research, it would have been different."_

 _"Maybe."_

 _I look up, starting to get upset. "Why aren't you pissed?" Brooks doesn't answer immediately. "Dammit, Brooks. I'm not made of glass. You can be pissed at me. If you can't trust me not to break, I shouldn't be back in the field."_

 _"This isn't about the rape." I suppress the flinch automatically, because I'd rather people say it than dance around it._

 _Brooks sighs, but he continues. "You should talk to Ash about this, not me, but the bottom line is that it's not your fault. Probably. Look, just… stay here for awhile. You can help me monitor the specimens. Let Ash finish his analysis, let Jo and the boys wrap up the current case load. Not everything has to be done today."_

 _"I shouldn't be involved in your study. It's too important to screw up."_

 _"You're not going to screw it up."_

 _I open my mouth to disagree and he overrides me. "Fi, you're not going to screw it up. Jo isn't dead. She's not even scratched."_

 _I glare, but Brooks doesn't back down. "She's not. She told me so. A little bruised from you landing on her, but you took the brunt of the swipe." He puts a hand on my back as he leads me into the tiny dorm room, and I suppress a second flinch, this one from pain._

 _When I sit on his bed and glance back up, he's frowning. "And evidently you cracked a rib when you did so." I try to shrug casually, because I was kinda hoping the bones were just bruised. But Brooks wouldn't be one of the best librarians if he was blind. He sighs, and starts digging in his dresser drawer. "Okay, take your shirt off. I've got a wrap here somewhere. We can go visit the specimens after you're taken care of."_

 _I don't bother to protest, because it won't fool him. But as he wraps my ribs (and cleans the claw marks on my back, which I wasn't hiding just genuinely hadn't felt yet, damn my scars anyway) I can't help but push my luck just a little in another department._

 _"What is Ash working on, Brooks?"_

 _"Conflict analysis." He doesn't say anything more, because he doesn't have to. I've been afraid of this possibility for a while now, though I never voiced it to myself. Still, there's no point in worrying just yet._

 _Ash will find something, or he won't._

* * *

Fi scrunched her nose, reluctant to delay the decision, but tipped her head ever so slightly, conceding to his logic. "Maybe you're right." She sighed. "We won't be protected after tonight, though. We won't be able to discuss it again and know for sure that we're safe."

"If we change Clyde to Sauron and B&B to… um… Saruman… we can at least talk in generalities. Not specifics, of course. But it's better than nothing. And we can make another contract, right? I can help pay the cost."

She smiled, looking actually relieved for the first time since their hysterical laughter. "Okay." She gave an even bigger sigh, and he thought she might have actually released some of her tension. Then she smirked, and asked, "How's your head?"

"Depends. Any other world-altering shit to drop on me?"

She chuckled. "Not as such. I do have a mission for us though." Her tone was playful, so he quirked an eyebrow. "We need a friend."

He turned that over in his mind, but it didn't seem world-altering the second time either. "Isn't that what the Wards are for?"

"No, I mean we need a friend who isn't a parahuman. Someone we can trust. We need someone to check our logic, since we're taking the time to do this right."

He ignored her teasing to cut to the heart of the matter, which he still didn't understand. "Why?"

She thunked her head back against the wall. "You're kidding me. The PRT doesn't tell capes that having powers messes with the way you think?" She opened her eyes and looked at him, but he just felt confused. He didn't speak, so she continued. "I thought you knew, because of your name. Intrepid: fearless. I thought you knew that your powers were messing with you."

"Ah…" his brain was scrambling, trying to find evidence for or against the theory. "No. It's just that there's a lot of flying capes. I didn't want to be Iron Sparrow or something ridiculous, and I thought Intrepid sounded heroic. Are you sure about this?"

Fi sighed. "Well, not totally. We didn't have a lot of data to work with, so I should probably talk to Dragon about it. I assume if it _was_ true, it would be well known and because it's not, it might be wrong. It's kinda a nature-versus-nurture argument anyways.

"Capes are involved in a lot of conflict. And overall conflict in the world is on the rise since capes cropped up. I mean, we're not setting off world-war three, but on average the world's daily death rate is higher than it's been in human history except when there's widespread war or plague. Quality of life is on the drop, too. Again, on average."

She took a deep breath and tried to order her thoughts. "Ash had already noticed the trend before I triggered, and he was trying to do something about it, when he wasn't juggling a million and one other responsibilities.

"After I triggered, my family saw the difference in me immediately. I used contracts for stuff I didn't need to. I was proposing more high-risk, violent, and generally conflict-oriented solutions to problems. I used to be a real pacifist, a peace-oriented problem-solver, but after I triggered… well, at first they thought it might just be the trauma.

"But when someone else would propose a peaceful solution, I could admit that it was a better choice. Or they'd forcefully make me stop, wait, think, and keep thinking, and eventually I'd come to the peaceful path and take it. It wasn't that I _couldn't_ be peaceful, eventually. But my immediate thought was always to escalate, to attack, to just keep _pushing_.

"My power fundamentally changed how my brain generates solutions, or maybe it's better to say that it changes the priority in which solutions occur to me. When we saw that change in me, it cast a different light on the conflict that surrounds powers in general. It wasn't a huge sample size, but it wasn't unreasonable to think it might be happening in all parahumans. It also matched some of what we'd observed in previous B&Bs. It would even explain why Clyde, or Sauron rather, was willing to kill to keep Mordor's secret. He may not have seen another way."

Jason considered not saying anything, but decided it probably needed to be said. " _Was_ there another way?"

Fi's brow wrinkled in confusion, so he hurried to explain his reasoning. "Not that I'm justifying what he did, but if Sauron wanted to keep Mordor's secrets, did he have an option besides killing them? Hunters in general sound pretty hardcore, and they were specifically investigating with the intent to report back to you and Ash."

Fi's lips pursed, but she didn't protest. After a moment, Jason decided to let her off the hook. "If Mordor can't see you guys, then they don't know that you know how to keep secrets and that it wouldn't get out to the world. Heck, you know how important a secret can be and you're still thinking of pulling the Triumvirate apart because of what they might have done. Could they take the risk of letting you find out?"

"I'll think about it," Fi finally relented, but it was clear she wasn't happy about it.

Jason decided to leave that topic alone and circle back to the point Fi had outlined. "I guess the whole conflict thing is something to discuss with Dragon. I've never really thought about it or noticed it. I don't feel more violent, but it sounds like maybe we wouldn't be able to notice it in ourselves. I do get in trouble for leaping before I look - taking on more than I can chew at times.

"In the meantime, we'll keep our eyes open for someone trustworthy."

 _And someone who can handle it,_ he added mentally. He'd done pretty well with weird, as Fi had predicted he would, but he could feel his brain starting to shut down. Still, he didn't want to leave the night on this serious note. "Can you answer a question that won't blow my mind?"

"Was there something specific?"

"When did you meet Nilbog?"

She chuckled. "Oh. That. I was chasing a djinn... must have been five years ago now, and he thought he'd run into the briar patch as it were. He liked his survival odds in Ellisberg better than mine, anyway. I had a friend teleport me in, pursued him until the constructs took care of him, then gave the signal to teleport out."

"The other hunters let you go into Nilbog's fortress when you were eleven?"

Fi opened her mouth, and then shut it. "Ah, about that. I did mean to mention this, it just sort of slipped my mind. I'm not actually sixteen. I quit aging when I triggered."

Jason did the mental math. "So, you're twenty-two?"

Fi shrugged. "Or somewhere thereabouts. I was found on the side of the road when I was somewhere in the five to eight years old range. I was tiny, physically, but I had a vocabulary like you wouldn't believe. Eight years later, I was kidnapped by Mordor. Two years after that, I triggered and either stopped aging, or I'm now aging super slowly. Not exactly sure. That was six years ago. So, I'm somewhere between fifteen and eighteen physically, and between twenty-one and twenty-four mentally.

"Added to the difficulty of this math is that I have no memories from before I was found. So I really only have sixteen years' worth of memories. I've also had two brushes with time travel, one where I lived the same day over and over for several months and one where I spent about a month somewhere back in the ancient Rome timeframe.

"Additionally, as a hunter, you're considered an adult once you are capable of taking care of yourself. Everyone has treated me like an adult for at least as long as I've been a cape, so by that logic you could argue I'm definitely twenty-four or older.

She sighed, "You could also argue that I'm mentally older by virtue of association: all of my sibling are in their late twenties to early thirties, and I consider them my peers, so maybe I'm really thirty. Except I'm still in a fifteen-to-eighteen body with all the associated hormones. I also never had a childhood and grew up in a very insular society with its own social code that doesn't always translate well to general America. That lends itself toward social awkwardness and relative immaturity. Finally, I'm now taking orders from Clockblocker, who's sixteen, and I'm part of a teenage cape team, with teenage peers. So maybe I really am fifteen or sixteen after all."

Somehow, this was actually harder for Jason to wrap his mind around than _werewolves_. "I didn't think your age would be a difficult question."

"I've led an interesting life."

"You don't say," he deadpanned back. "How did you end up in ancient Rome?"

"Well, actually, I was somewhere in modern-day Ireland, at a time when Rome was a major power." She wilted under his mock-glare. "I was making fun of a deity." His eyebrows shot up and she clarified, "A minor deity! Not one from an actual pantheon. Those are dead, for the most part. This was really more of a faery drawing on extra power."

"Well that makes much more sense." He held the serious expression for about a minute, and then they both started laughing again.

Like before, there was a certain degree of hysteria involved, but it did relieve some of the tension. "I have to ask," he said when he could breathe again, "how is it that capes haven't discovered the other sources of weird yet? Wouldn't they be mistaken for capes?"

"Some of them could be. A couple have been, and for the most part hunters leave those cases alone to maintain our own anonymity. But mostly, supernatural beings have a vested interested in not drawing attention. Hunters can find them because they're looking for it, and we have ways of tracking down the various types of supernatural that we've been dealing with for generations. But vampires have no reason to parade down Mainstreet, USA, fangs bared, and draw a target on their backs."

Jason nodded, conceding the logic. "If all the B&Bs have been handled except for Saruman," he mused, and she nodded to show this was correct, "then why are there still supernatural critters for you to hunt?"

"Self-propagation. Most of the B&Bs wanted minions without having to convert every single one, so they made the minions to be self-breeding or made them capable of turning humans into minions. We try to get as many as we can when we take out the B&B, but it's like whack-a-mole. There's almost always more hiding somewhere."

"Makes sense." They lapsed into silence, and Jason thought back over the day, over what she'd just said, and tried to let it all sink in. He thought about asking why she couldn't go home, but he didn't want to bring that up when she seemed to be a relatively stable place.

Of course, it wasn't good conversation for when she wasn't stable either, so maybe he was just avoiding it in general. _For now_ , he told himself. _We don't have to solve everything tonight._

After thinking for a while longer, he asked, "How were the other B&Bs defeated?"

"Hmm?" Fi hummed, glancing at him. "What was that?"

* * *

Excerpt from a hunter's journal; circa 1920; specialization: broad-spectrum field work

 _…It is an error to say that humans are limited by the first four dimensions. More accurately, we are limited_ _in_ _the first four dimensions. We are vulnerable in space and in time. And because other forces so easily manipulate these aspects of our lives, we forget that there are other dimensions. We focus on our weaknesses, when we ought to focus on the weaknesses of our enemies._

 _It is, of course, difficult to quantify that which we cannot observe. But having now nearly five thousand years of lore, records, and experience, we cannot remain any longer in this state of self-denial concerning the higher orders of dimensions. Simply because they cannot be calculated, or measured, does not mean that they cannot be observed. Therefore, I offer the following summation of my life's investigation._

 _Humans are powerful. We love. We hate. We hope. We despair. We dream. We believe. We create, imagine, inspire. We unite, we overcome, we triumph. These are such an aspect of being human that we overlook it, forget it, discard it. We must pay attention._

 _The story of human triumph through bravery, perseverance, loyalty, love, etc is such a part of our self that we mock it. But it is not coincidence that we succeed after we are brave, after we believe, after we persevere. These things breed success._

 _We cannot measure the higher dimensions (not the other dimensions, which more properly should be called worlds or realms, but the higher dimensions, those beyond our ken) but we can see the effects they have on our enemies._

 _As we are limited, vulnerable, in the first four dimensions, I believe that our enemies are limited in the higher dimensions. They are trapped by our folklore, helpless against our humanity. It was once observed by a contemporary of mine, that our enemies act like players on a stage, growing in strength only to be dramatically defeated at the pinnacle moment._

 _I don't believe they're acting. I believe they are controlled by the narrative. And we are the narrators._

 _I don't expect many to believe me. There are certainly other explanations, other contributing factors, other mechanics. But we have been undefeated. We have defended ourselves against superior forces time and again. I don't think this is luck, or coincidence. Nor do I believe it is fate, unless one was to subscribe to the idea that fate is what we make of it or that we control our own fate…_

 _…Finally, it is unsurprising that vocabulary should differ amongst our enemies. Nevertheless, I offer the following hypothesis, to be proven or disproven by those that would follow in the footsteps of my work._

 _The fifth dimension is influenced by love and hate, hope and despair, death and rebirth,_

 _The sixth: bravery, stubbornness, passion, faith_

 _The seventh: cleverness, innovation, creativity, inspiration,_

 _The eighth: grief, defiance, joy, courage,_

 _The ninth: legacy, triumph, dreaming, sacrifice_

 _You see now the tangled web of reality: for is not passion made of love and hate? Is not bravery the brother of courage, and joy the companion of faith?_

 _Yet the same might be said of time and space. For if one could control time, and thereby exert force over whatever interval he or she might so desire, could they not change the landscape of our world in what seems to be the blink of an eye? Energy and matter, time and motion, concrete reality and relativity: are these not also so intertwined?_

 _…_

 _Examine now, the death of our greatest enemies. For it is death, is it not, to have passed out of our reality? The Angel of Hell, Lucifer, has no body. He has no ability to affect our world. He causes no trouble and his prison has no weakness. Does it matter if he is locked for eternity in a physical realm or a metaphysical hell? Hunters are reluctant to name this "death" and yet, what else is it?_

 _Or consider then Eve, the Mother of all Evil, who does not at this moment exist. She was flung through time, leaving this world in 1234 AD and when she re-immerged in 1840, she fell directly into the prepared trap, again leaving our realm. When her time-suspension ends in 2406, will we not be waiting for her yet again? If, then, she has no body, no influence, no ability to ever come back to any time whose future she has seen, no will, and no life to speak of, is she not dead?_

 _I will not detail them all, but surely you can see that each of our enemies are, indeed, dead. And this is the most critical point. Time and observation will prove the rest of my musings right or wrong. And knowing that we are powerful is not the same as knowing how to use that power. These things we will have to discover in the ages to come._

 _But this we can do: we can declare our enemies dead. Defeated. Gone. If I am correct, the very act of asserting our dominance is worthwhile. If I am wrong, then there is no harm done. Let us declare then that our enemies are vanquished, destroyed, killed. Fallen before our blades. Leave aside the labels of 'trapped' or 'isolated' or 'contained' (though not, of course, the histories of how this was done; let no record be lost on my account). Do you wish them to break free? Nay, they are dead._

 _Believe or not in the power of humanity. Ridicule or repeat the rest of these observations. But do not feed the opportunities of our enemies._

 _They are dead. Declare them so…_

* * *

Jason swallowed, realized that she hadn't seen his question, and repeated it. "The other sources. How did they die?"

Fi sighed. "Not easily. And this one may be even worse. What some of the capes can do is more impressive than forces we previously classed as B&Bs. The only real difference is dimensions. Humans, and most parahumans, are confined by the first four dimensions." Seeing that Jason didn't get it, Fi elaborated.

"For the most part, we are trapped by the physical world and by time. All of the B&Bs are extra-dimensional. They're outside of time, space… one claimed to be able to manipulate up to the ninth dimension, but considering we either killed him, or we made enough trouble that it was simpler for him to pretend to die and decide to leave us alone, we're not sure how much of that we believe.

"Each B&B has been defeated by some combination of human innovation, a manipulation of their own power, and luck. And never the same way twice, like I said. Getting more specific requires outlining exactly who they are, how they interacted with the various dimensions, the resources we had, the folklore available, and other details that I don't want to get into tonight."

The light dawned, and Jason spoke slowly. "That's why you don't think we can go after Mordor yet, isn't it?" She met his gaze steadily as he continued. "You think we might need them. Hunters aren't capes, so if you need a manipulation of Saruman's own power, you'll probably need Mordor."

She sighed. "There's that. There's also the fact that some hunters aren't even working on the problem. In the past, B&Bs haven't acted quickly. Their minions are usually around for centuries before they make their first move. They aren't inside of time the same way we are, so they don't get impatient. Most hunters don't think the battle is coming for a long while. They're preparing just in case, but there's very little urgency."

"You think this time is different?"

"B&Bs usually don't play with their food, parading around in togas, rescuing kittens from trees."

It took him a moment to put the pieces together. The moment he did, Fi was talking again. She must have read his revelation in his expression. "I'm not certain. It's not sure. But it's also not a risk we can take."

Jason whispered the worst swear word he knew, and then whispered it again. Somehow, that actually made him feel a little better.

"We might need Mordor," he repeated, and Fi didn't actually protest, just looked down at her hands again. "Why do I get the feeling you're going to punch someone?"

"They've got a lot to answer for. And we won't be able to do anything if they don't take us seriously."

"Are you proposing beating up Mordor in order to work together more effectively?"

She shrugged, and chose to tease back rather than be serious. "I did say that my problem solving was affected."

"We _need_ to find a normal sidekick." As soon as Jason said it, he heard the unintended humor in the statement, and they both chuckled. "But not tonight."

Fi nodded, but didn't shift or make any indication that she was ready to go to bed. Remembering what Taylor had said about sleep, Jason offered, "Want to watch a movie?"

Fi's smile was like the sun on a rainy day; weak, dulled, but still a genuine source of warmth.

* * *

They wandered to the living room and found a movie that seemed to be a comedy. For twenty minutes they sat in front of the flickering television screen, but Jason didn't hear a word that was said, and after a little while he realized that he hadn't turned on the subtitles either.

A glance at Fi showed that she was staring off to the side, not even looking at the TV. At that, Jason felt bold enough to ask the question that seemed most important at the moment. He nudged her until she glanced up, so that she could see his face.

"If I were to run across a werewolf or something on the street, how would I know? How can I protect myself and my family?"

She sighed, looking regretful, and apologetic. "I've already set up all the basic wards on your house. I broke in here at night the first week after you moved to Brockton Bay to put up protections, just in case. Anyone you saw on the street either wouldn't be a danger, because they'd be incognito, or they'd be acting obviously weird, in which case you'd probably assume they were a cape and you'd do pretty well to treat them like one."

She shifted, uncomfortable with the subject. "I didn't tell you about all of that because I expect it to impact your everyday life. Big cities like Brockton Bay see very little supernatural activity. I was telling you so you'd believe me about Saruman. I don't expect it to change your day to day life."

"It's world-altering," he said carefully, trying to understand. "How could it not change everything?"

"The world keeps turning," Fi replied somberly. "We have to keep up. If something does come up, I'll give you more details then. But I don't expect it to. I'm a cape now, not a hunter. Not really."

"Okay," Jason said, letting the subject drop. He fished for something else, something to ease their mutual discomfort. "Why Phoenix?"

Fi smiled, but it was sad and he somehow knew she was thinking of Ash. "When they first found me, Ellis was pretty sure I was some sort of supernatural creature. The description I fit best was a phoenix, so that's what she called me. They finally verified that I was human, my soul was in my own body, I hadn't experienced any time-travel, and this was my native dimension, but I still had no memories and no name.

"At that point, Ash was the only adult who hadn't thought I was some sort of potentially murderous monster. So I asked him what his name was, and he told me that he was named Ashland Texas. It was a name he chose when he became a hunter, because the town had personal meaning to him.

"Well, I knew that I'd been found just outside of Phoenix, Arizona so I decided that would be my name. I liked that it mimicked Ash, who I thought the world of, and I liked that it was sort of redefining the label that others had used against me. Plus, as a kid, I thought the whole ash/phoenix connection was pretty cool."

"And Contract?" he ventured.

Fi was quiet for a while. "That was Brooks' idea. He's not super creative, but he set up my PHO account and made my mask and everything. He was pretty sure I was going to get kicked out sooner or later, and he wanted me to have a cape identity to fall back on. Took six years, but he wasn't all wrong."

"There's a lot of pain in your past," Jason tried a little gallows humor, hating that he'd stepped in yet another landmine.

"I suppose. It didn't feel so bad when I was living it. Doesn't feel so bad, I should say. The people make it worth it." She smiled up at him, then tucked her head down against his chest.

They sat there for a long time, but he could tell from the tension in her body that neither of them were asleep. He watched the clock until he suddenly realized that he was waiting for the moment when Ash would have been dead for a full twenty-four hours, and morbidly wondered if Fi was thinking the same thing.

It was amazing how much could happen in just a day, and yet the world kept on turning.


	33. War Games

**Chapter Thirty-Three: War Games**

 **March 20, 2011**

Jason finally got Fi to go to sleep around four thirty in the morning, and was so exhausted that he immediately went to sleep himself. He heard his mom and dad moving around at nine, but rolled over and went back to sleep. He woke up a couple times after that, but didn't get out of bed until almost eleven.

He still was up before Fi.

At noon, Dennis and Missy came over in uniform to replace Triumph and Velocity, who were on guard duty. They sat on the couch and talked quietly for close to three hours, before Missy finally went in to check on Fi.

She reported that Fi was awake, but didn't want to talk to anyone. She was just sitting against the wall, nearly curled into a ball, thinking.

At seven, Jason's mom cooked dinner for the family and the visiting Wards, and Fi came out of the guest room to sit at the table and push pasta around her plate, but she only ate a few bites.

At ten, when Chris and Taylor, who had replaced Dennis and Missy, were relieved by Armsmaster and Aegis, Jason was past concern and headed into frantic worry.

Armsmaster pulled Jason's whole family aside while Aegis scoped the perimeter, and tried to apologize for the intrusion into their life. That went over exactly as Jason could have predicted it would: his mother ardently insisted that it was no imposition whatsoever, of course Fi could stay with them as long as it was helping her, she wouldn't hear of Fi grieving alone in the PRT base, no there was no reason to make other arrangements, etc.

As always, his dad just smiled and nodded. He knew how big his wife's heart was when he married her, and he never begrudged her the chance to be generous or hospitable.

Of course, when Armsmaster told Jason that he would be considered officially on-duty while Fi was in his house, and thus exempt from school, his mom looked slightly more chagrined, a reflexive reaction due to her long-running campaign against his powers affecting his "potential for other, equally meaningful careers."

His dad stepped in to remind her to think about it logically, and she immediately blushed in embarrassment. Armsmaster seemed nonplussed, or perhaps confused, but didn't say anything more, accepting his victory with grace, or at least stoicism.

And so it was that on Monday, Jason walked on eggshells around his new home while Fi sat, mostly silent, in the guest room, on the couch, at the table, and outside on the porch.

On Tuesday he was able to get her at least talk a little more. She told him stories with vague details or holes and he didn't ask questions, assuming that the missing pieces were folklore or supernatural weirdness she didn't want to tell him about.

On Wednesday she cooked, starting around nine and lasting well past when his dad came home from work. She made stir-fry for lunch, a slow-cooked curry for dinner, two pies, cookies, a pasta sauce which she froze "for easy dinners later" and a hand-beaten naan that tasted heavenly. His mother took it all in stride, happy to share her kitchen and see Fi improving a little.

On Thursday, Jason took action. Fi was improving slowly, but he knew that they both needed to get out of the house.

 **March 24, 2011**

"Are you sure that's what you want to wear?" he asked as casually as he could.

Fi just obliviously sunk into what was becoming her chair at the table, blinking at her toast as though that would make it magically disappear from the plate. He gritted his teeth in frustration with himself; it was the third time that he'd forgot she was deaf. (He was doing better than anyone except his mom, but she'd never known Fi when she wasn't deaf.)

He forcefully reminded himself that being frustrated wouldn't help anything. Then he wiped the emotion from his face as best as he could, sighed, and tapped her arm.

When she glanced up, he repeated himself clearly.

Fi's brow scrunched in confusion, and glanced down at the sweats she was wearing. They'd brought her meager wardrobe over from the PRT base, but Fi had worn nothing but casual exercise clothes and sweats since Monday.

(Jason was also pretty sure his mom had had words with Armsmaster at some point during his guard duty about getting Fi some more clothes. Nearly everything she had was pretty close to her uniform, and might even be early variations on her costume. If it wasn't a white shirt and jeans, then it was blue running capris and a white sweatshirt.)

Finally, she asked, "Are we going somewhere?"

Jason shrugged, acting casual. "Don't you want to get out of the house?"

Her expression remained confused, but at least she was engaging. "And go where?" she repeated.

Jason shrugged again, then wondered if he was laying it on too thick. "I don't care. Anywhere." He let some of his inner rejoicing at his plan's success leak onto his face as glee. "Hey! Let's go down to the PRT base and test out your new firepower. The rest of the team would probably love the excuse to bug out of classes!"

He'd already cleared it with Armsmaster and Dennis that if he could get Fi out of the house, they'd sign off on missing school for official duties.

Fi narrowed her eyes at him, slightly suspicious, then shrugged off his weirdness and nodded, just accepting the suggestion. "I'll shower after breakfast," she said, and proceeded to eat as mechanically as always.

* * *

They started with simple tests. Fi waved her hand this way and that and made a variety of weights dance around. Her telekinesis was relatively straightforward: she could lift, direct, catch, and set down weights up to at least two hundred pounds, with the proper forethought and concentration. (More weight than that would have to be tested with adult supervision, per PRT regulations.)

She could lift up to three or four objects at a time, if she was looking at them, but after more than that she lost her concentration, and unless all four were doing the same thing (moving to the right, orbiting a single object, or some other simple, coordinated task) one or more of them tended to drop or accidentally run into obstacles.

She compared it to trying to count by threes and figure out which letter of the alphabet was in 17th place at the same time: just too much multitasking for her brain to do at once.

For the most part, she needed line of sight to pick up an object and throw it at her target. Without the ability to watch the object travel, she missed her targets about two out of every three times. Jason was still pretty impressed with a 30% blind hit rate, until she sighted a target, put on the blindfold, and then threw the bean-bags by hand, and nailed the bulls-eye every time.

Fi was frustrated by the lower accuracy, and the need for intense concentration, but not discouraged. She seemed to accept it as a challenge to be worked through. Considering that "determined" was a lot better than "depressed," Jason agreed with her and offered to help. This brightened her right up, so much so that she decided she wanted to spar.

It quickly became obvious that Intrepid was outmatched. Even without the ability to fly, she was destroying him. He couldn't seem to connect, or if he did, she used the hit to grab him, throw him, slide past him, trip him, or pin him. He was thrown into the mat, into the padded walls, once even pinned to the ceiling with her telekinesis.

"Need a break?" Clockblocker asked when the rest of the Wards finally arrived.

Intrepid was pinned against the mat, Contract kneeling on his back, with one arm trapped under him and the other being held uncomfortably, but not painfully, by his opponent.

"What took you so long?" he asked, as Contract let him up.

"Well, since it was only an hour before we would be out anyway, and your message wasn't urgent, we decided not to push our privileges too much. Didn't know you needed us so badly," Kid Win teased, offering a hand up. Intrepid took it gratefully, and then sank onto one of the padded benches by the door, drinking greedily from his water bottle.

"What are you two up to?" Vista asked, helping Gallant fill exercise bottles for the rest of the Wards. "All Dennis told us is that you wanted our help with something."

Intrepid glanced at Contract, but she was talking to Aegis, who had accompanied the Wards, so she wasn't watching for the question. He decided to answer it, since the powers weren't supposed to be a secret. "As part of Saturday's bargain, Contract has a couple permanent combat powers. We were just testing them out."

"Okay everybody," Clockblocker said from where he'd been listening and talking to Contract, Aegis and Gallant. Gallant was on his phone, texting someone. "Listen up. We've got a rare opportunity here, and we're going to take full advantage of it. Contract has acquired a new power set. We'll talk about the exact details of how and why later. For now, we have a chance to have a fight against a brand new, unknown opponent.

"Gallant is calling Glory Girl and Panacea right now; I'm going to go upstairs and talk to Armsmaster. Assuming that we get everyone's green light, we are going to have a little war game.

"Contract and Intrepid are a new villain group, and we only know Intrepid's powers. We'll have a flag, and so will they. We're going to go over to the Protectorate's obstacle course and have a full-contact encounter, including paintball guns. That's contingent on Panacea being able to be on-sight, of course.

"Intrepid, you and Contract put your heads together and figure out what you think would be even teams to face you two. Break us into teams that you think will give a fair or interesting fight. Neither of you have ever seen the obstacle course, and we don't know what Contract's power is. Keep those limitations in mind.

"Any objections?"

Far from objecting, Contract actually looked eager. She was smirking, already smug. Glancing around at the other Wards, Intrepid saw that they looked mildly surprised, but equally keen.

"The girls are good for it," Gallant said, raising his head. "They're just clearing it with Carol now."

Intrepid was a little surprised, because he had thought that Gallant and Glory Girl were "off again" but he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Bring it on," Vista crowed, and Kid Win nodded rapidly.

"Okay," Clockblocker said, already headed for the exit. "You and Kid Win explain the 'full contact' rules to these two, and brief Beetle when she gets here too. I'm gonna call Armsmaster, get clearance, and arrange a ride."

"Better call Beetle now," Intrepid suggested to Vista, "so she can start collecting bugs."

* * *

Like the plans to go to the Market, the idea got out of hand in the best possible fashion. Not only did New Wave clear Glory Girl and Panacea, they requested permission for Laserdream and Shielder to join the exercise, which only added to the appeal for the rest of the team, since it wasn't often they got to work with all of the New Wave teenagers.

Likewise, Armsmaster approved and improved their plan. In addition to using the Protectorate's obstacle course, equipment, and combat-simulation paint guns, he authorized the use of the Protectorate's sim-battle protocols. Armsmaster reserved the room for a full afternoon of simulations, however many they could run, and gave permission for Miss Militia, Triumph, and Aegis to join the Wards and New Wave teenagers in the ring.

The rules of engagement were relatively complex. Each team would have four flags they wanted to guard, and these could be hidden together or in separate locations around the football-field sized arena, or even carried on a cape's person if they so desired. Two flags would be hidden randomly on the course, in locations unknown to both teams. To win, either team had to collect any seven of the ten flags.

The teams would start with Beetle, Intrepid and Contract on one side, and Armsmaster, Vista and Clockblocker on the other. Any time a team suffered five "hits," the next person in the queue would join that team, and their team hit counter would reset, so that the weaker team was always reinforced with new fire power, and the field dynamics were constantly changing.

A hit could be any number of things: being splattered by a paintball (it had to actually break), any sort of physical blow, being thrown into a surface or pinned for more than a second in any way. Being touched by Clockblocker was automatically considered three hit points. Basically, if it had the potential to bruise or worse, it was considered a hit.

A cape was considered dead if they took five consecutive hits, or ten total hits. Dead capes would be replaced on by two new capes, have to leave the field, and enter the end of the queue waiting to go into the arena if everyone else was already inside.

Each cape had an earbud to communicate with their team. The comms systems could also transmit to all the earbuds, but only in select modes. The team comm channels would be monitored and maintained by Dragon, who had said, quote, "I beg you, let me watch this," to which Contract had replied, "Only if you translate for me."

(Contract was wearing a new visor over her leather mask, which Armsmaster had evidently made for her. Neither was saying anything about its capabilities, but Intrepid would be surprised if it didn't at least contain a way to translate speech into text.)

To add to the general chaos, the capes waiting in the wings would have very limited information. They would only know the team rosters, current hit counts, and any information which a team chose to broadcast on the general channel, which would also be overheard by their opponents.

The original teams hadn't included Beetle or Armsmaster. At the last minute, Contract argued for adding Beetle to their initial team lineup, on the logic that she was the only other participant who had never seen the arena before, and like Contract and Intrepid, she was a relatively green cape compared to the Brockton Bay regulars. Armsmaster allowed it on the agreement that he would be a starting player for the other side. It was clear from his expression that he expected her to back down from the challenge.

The Cheshire grin that she responded with seemed to unnerve Armsmaster as much as it did Intrepid. He was suddenly glad that all he had to do to stay on Contract's team was _not die_. "I'll do you one better," she offered, "you can start on their team, and you guys can have thirty seconds head start."

Since their team's biggest challenge in the exercise was the new terrain, Beetle's bugs were forced to wait outside the arena with them, and the three of them would enter carrying their flags, without a chance to place them ahead of time. So Contract's offer meant she was giving the other team a free chance to hide their flags and try to find the two hidden ones.

Armsmaster accepted the deal, but he didn't look sure that it was a good idea.

* * *

"Okay, we've got a couple minutes to strategize. Intrepid, as the cape fight veteran, what's your advice?" Contract asked, falling into the leadership position in their dynamic as soon as they were alone.

"We're starting without any idea of the layout of the terrain, which is a huge disadvantage. The faster that Beetle can give us a site map, the better. Our advantage in this round is definitely going to be her bugs: they're our eyes, to eliminate our disadvantage. They're also a good distraction, and they can seek out the other team's flags. The key is going to be staying alive long enough to find them."

"I can search the whole arena simultaneously. We should find them pretty fast," Beetle contradicted.

Intrepid shook his head hard, conveying his immediate disagreement, and spoke as soon as it wouldn't be cutting Beetle off. "No. If they're thinking at all, they'll have Clockblocker freeze their flags, and probably freeze something else over them too. We'll have to survive long enough to not only find them, but wait for that to expire. As long as they're frozen, we can't claim to have them, even if we know exactly where they are."

Contract nodded, seeing his point. "We should take advantage of our powers to keep our flags safe too. Beetle, can your bugs hold the flags?"

With some quick experimentation, they found that a number of bugs could work together to hold the flags, but it took a much larger number to hide the bright green cloth and disguise the shape of the swarm.

"Okay, keep the flags low and out of sight, and keep them moving. Use your bugs to find the flags that Clockblocker has hidden, and then seize them as soon as they unfreeze. Try to find the non-team flags too. Even though it will leave us blind, I think that's more important than the terrain map."

Contract glanced toward Intrepid for his input, and he was already nodding. "She's right. We can survive an unknown terrain. It won't be easy, but it's possible."

"Okay. Intrepid, in your experience, is it better to have the high ground, or have cover?"

"High ground. But that's speaking as a mover, who was on a team of movers." Contract nodded, absorbing that input, then nodded again, more decisively.

"Here's the basic plan, then. I'll lead us into the arena, and take any route I see toward high ground. That should let us scope a little too. Beetle, you're behind me. When I see a promising spot, I'll give you a signal, and you break off and hide in the shadows. You're less mobile than both Intrepid and I, and you have the least combat experience. Try to take advantage of not moving to track the players on the field, feed info to Intrepid and I, and deal with the flags."

Contract trailed off, and glanced at Intrepid, her forehead wrinkling. "You need a field name."

He sighed, reminded of the many laments of his teammates. Intrepid did not shorten easily. "Use Red." He glanced at Beetle, ran a through nicknames through his head, and asked, "Bug?"

"Bug," Contract agreed before Beetle could protest, "and just use Fi for me." She shook her head, "anyway, where was I? Beetle, you get down when we tell you to. Intrepid, I think you should cover our backs until Beetle is safe. Staying lower will also keep you from being an immediate target if one of them has set up as a sniper near our entrance. Once she's down, you can use your own judgement if you want to stick with me or break off. My primary focus is going to be engaging the enemy. I want to keep things close quarters and keep the heat on them as much as possible."

"You realize that the more you shoot, the more teammates you give them?" Intrepid objected. The Texas teams were all very big on understanding the objective of an assignment, and knowing what would and wouldn't further that objective. It helped in cases like this one, where the rules and objectives had implications that weren't immediately obvious.

Fi, however, just smiled that scary grin again. "I do realize. I think the three of us can beat them all. The only way to do that is to get them all on the field."

Part of Intrepid wanted to protest. The greater part was cheering "Bring! It! On!" and cycling an imaginary shotgun shell. Well, it was only a war game, so why not?

Just then, basic mission clock in the bottom of his display started counting down from 30 seconds. The Blue Team had entered the arena.

Intrepid adjusted and re-adjusted his grip on his weapon, mentally reminding himself where his spare ammo was, where his spare handgun was clipped, and where he'd put each of the rest of his equipment. As he did so, he remembered another advantage he should mention.

"We have the advantage that I'm accustomed to using a tinker tech gun in battle. Some of our opponents might be so excited to use a paint ball gun they forget their normal tactics."

Contract nodded, and glanced at Beetle. "The inverse is true for you. Don't let the gun distract you from your strengths."

It felt weird to be wearing a different uniform, even though it was obviously a good idea not to get paint on his actual equipment. The standard-issue suit was bulkier, meant to pad against the high-velocity paint projectiles, and it didn't move as well as he was used to. He was glad he'd kept his normal visor, at least, so he had his usual display available.

"Any bugs in there already?" Contract asked. 21.

"None. They vented it, I'm pretty sure," Beetle replied. 19.

"Don't lead with the flag bugs then. Keep them well hidden. Try to get bugs throughout the whole arena as quick as possible, to disguise which parts you're actually concentrating on." 15.

Intrepid noted that Contract was very focused on redirection and camouflage, tactics that would serve a smaller force well against a larger or more powerful opponent. She might need to start thinking differently now that she was a part of a large, well organised team. He didn't say anything, but made a note for the debriefing later.

Contract pulled her own automatic paint gun off her shoulder, and hefted it in a way that said she was extremely comfortable with its weight.

"Beetle, how familiar are you with clock directions?"

Even beneath her mask, (Beetle had chosen to wear her full normal uniform), Beetle looked panicked. "None?"

"Then our entrance is now south. The wall to our right, as we exit, is east, the front is north, and the left is west. Those are new, fixed directions. Intrepid and I will have to adapt." Intrepid grimaced, but there was no time to argue and there probably hadn't been enough time to explain normal combat orientation language to Beetle. 5.

"Dragon's referee," Contract reminded them. "So if you have a creative idea, ask her first. She's got the final word, and she likes us."

"Three." Dragon said over their comms, acting as though she hadn't heard. "Two. One."

The doors in front of them opened, and Contract ran out first, with Beetle behind her and Intrepid in the rear. Behind them, Intrepid could hear Beetle's swarm surge forth in a terrifying cacophony of buzzing. Contract broke right as the swarm boiled up and over them, continuing straight on and dispersing as planned. Beetle followed Contract, and Intrepid stuck with them.

The obstacle course was just that: filled with obstacles. There was scaffolding somewhere near the center reaching up towards the three-story high ceiling, but it didn't look steady. Immediately in front of the door was a number of huge pipes laid on their side, creating a set of above ground tunnels, a maze, and a shelter in one. It was probably a good place to avoid until they knew more about the blind corners and hiding places it would provide to them and their enemies.

By turning to the right (east, Intrepid tried to remind himself), they were currently running towards a set of rusty bleachers that were a few yards away from the east wall, angled north-west as though watching the door on the far side. Intrepid glanced behind them long enough to confirm that they were headed up a slight incline, and that the east side of the arena, at least down near this south entrance, was filled with wooden huts in various stages of total disrepair. As far as he could see, the whole room sloped down toward the east, and perhaps a little towards the south.

There was no sign of their enemy.

Contract ran towards the bleachers, then past them using them as cover as she ran to the east wall. She waved her hand wildly toward the shadows beneath the seats, and Beetle dove into them, finally speaking into her comm link. With the swarm still buzzing over the room and spreading out, she probably wouldn't be heard.

"There's pipes along most the center third of the room. There's one huge pipe running the length of ninety percent of the room like a spine, but most of the pipes are only six or eight feet long. There's more on the south half than the north. The left wall - I mean west wall - is covered in huts. Most of them are connected, some have attics or other hidey-holes."

Contract was still making a decent pace forward, and Intrepid continued following her rather than break off. They were approaching a brick wall, about eight feet tall, just in front of them. Contract was slowing down, like she intended to use the wall as cover to stop and look around, when she suddenly dropped to the ground at the same time Beetle yelled, "DUCK."

By reflex, Intrepid went up instead. This let him see that the brick wall was actually about six feet wide, due to Vista's power. Armsmaster and Clockblocker were laying on top, firing at Contract. As he rose, Clockblocker tried to twist and shoot up at him, but it was an awkward angle because he was lying on his belly.

The paint gun was too long in his hands; he was used to a one-handed tinker tech weapon. It took him several shots to adjust to the range and shooting of the gun as he walked his shots from left to right, approaching the two heroes. Fortunately, he was rising faster than Clockblocker was adjusting, and Armsmaster was still shooting at Contract, who wasn't dead yet and so was probably avoiding being hit, somehow. As Clockblocker's shots started to track more closely, and Intrepid finally starting hitting Armsmaster, a wall of bugs descended in front of Intrepid, acting as a shield.

As soon as he couldn't see the Blue Team, he dropped straight down, assuming they couldn't see him either. "It's Vista," he said into the comm link, while he scrambled to hide behind a car door that was propped up by some sort of wooden spool. "The brick wall is stretched six feet thick."

Intrepid watched as the wall of bugs that had been his shield turned and became a missile headed for the wall. As they swarmed it, there were suddenly two thumps. Clockblocker landed on their side of the wall, while Armsmaster and most of the bugs seemed to be on the other side.

There was a spatter of gunfire from in front of him where Contract was crouched, and Contract painted Clockblocker with exactly five headshots, coating his visor.

"Laserdream enters for Team Blue," Dragon announced over the general line.

Since Clockblocker wasn't declared dead, Intrepid guessed that something Beetle was doing to Armsmaster or Vista must count as a hit or two, preventing Contract from having five consecutive hits. Clockblocker turned north towards his team's entrance, perhaps instinctively looking for his new teammate, and Contract shot to her feet and took off like a jackrabbit, ducking around the other side of the wall.

Intrepid followed her, flying over his temporary shield and then moving at normal running height, horizontal, to make an unexpected target shape. As Contract rounded the wall, she fired her gun with her right hand only, her left waving side to side.

Intrepid rounded the corner to see that Armsmaster was waving an electrified halberd, zapping bugs, and trying to target Contract with the gun in his off hand. She was throwing his shots subtly to the left, making him think he was leading her by too far and protecting herself (and coincidentally Intrepid) from the shots. She dove into a tunnel that was laid approximately east-to-west and Intrepid followed her down the slope, taking a few shots of his own at Armsmaster.

"Kid Win enters for Team Blue," Dragon said.

"Keep going, exit, turn right and fire," Beetle instructed in their ears, and Contract burst out of the pipe at about three quarters of full speed, running hunched, and turned north towards the Blue entrance. They came almost face to face with Kid Win and Laserdream, who were both running full tilt toward the center of the arena, and therefore towards the two of them. Intrepid had been flying with his weapon braced for combat, but immediately dropped it to evacuate Contract instead, letting it swing from its strap.

"Grab her! Get up!" Beetle shouted immediately, and Intrepid suppressed the desire to snap at his teammate. He could see when an exit was needed, thank you. How about not leading them into a trap next time? Contract got off a decent burst of fire before Intrepid grabbed her and yanked them both straight upward and backwards, dodging return fire, even as Contract kept trying to shoot and was a generally uncooperative passenger.

"Don't go to the huts," Beetle added at the last minute, so he kept going up, toward the scaffold in the center of the field, and just a little to his left. "Not too high!" she corrected, just as Kid Win sent a shot over both their heads with his new energy gun, which was mounted to the hoverboard he was riding. Both Laserdream and Kid Win were air support; Intrepid was no longer the sole flyer, and he needed to correct his thinking.

"Go back to the tunnels, and run for the south door. There's a pit about halfway there that's defensible," Beetle told him.

"Miss Militia enters for Team Blue. Gallant enters for Team Blue." While it was a good sign that Beetle was doing damage to the Blue Team, Intrepid sort wished she'd slow down before it was the three of them versus everybody.

"Target Gallant," Beetle ordered, and Contract obeyed as Intrepid dropped back down. She fired exactly five shots before they were back in the maze of pipes, where Intrepid could thankfully drop her. They both scrambled into a pipe barely tall enough to crouch in, and each immediately covered one of the exits. Contract was facing west and north, while Intrepid was more east and south, back the way they had come. The whole pipe was barely five feet long, but it was enough to let them catch their breath.

Dragon promptly announced, "Gallant is dead. Glory Girl enters for team blue. Aegis enters for team blue." Intrepid took the gun strap off his back so he could hold it further from his body, more comfortably as they crouched and waited.

"We have to stay alive for another five or ten minutes," Beetle announced. "Freeze." They both obeyed, and Intrepid watched as Glory Girl zipped past the open pipe end in front of him, going too fast to notice them.

"We won't last ten minutes in a pit," Contract said, "or any simple shelter for that matter. We need to stay on the move, or stay in a very defensible position. Something to bottleneck them."

"There's a really long pipe, that spine I told you about. It's nine feet in diameter in the center of this pipe maze you're in. Go left," Beetle offered, "err, ah, I mean, the closest entrance is north east of your current position. We've just got to keep Gallant off the field because he'll see my emotional aura. Otherwise, I'm invisible."

"No," Intrepid snapped, "you're not. Bullshit tinkertech is bullshit." He was already in motion as he protested. Even as someone who'd always had tinkertech support, Intrepid fully believed in that particular lament.

Intrepid left the pipe at full speed, rocketing back towards Beetle's hiding place under the bleachers, pouring on every inch of acceleration he could safely manage in the close quarters.

As he did so, the space between himself and Beetle stretched. _Vista_. He heard a spat of gunfire, and then the space collapsed back to normal, and he seized Beetle under the armpits, yanking her back towards the south wall, out from under the bleachers while Kid Win weaved behind them. Intrepid had barely beaten him to Beetle, and now the tinker was far more maneuverable than Intrepid, since he wasn't hampered.

"Vista is dead. Triumph enters for Blue Team. Shielder enters for Blue Team."

"Drop to the pipes," Beetle commanded, but Intrepid ignored her. As much as he was conditioned to trust his teammates in combat, it was becoming obvious that Beetle wasn't very combat experienced. Intrepid would be all too happy to lose altitude, but there was nowhere to come down.

Armsmaster was to the north, Laserdream and Glory Girl rising up behind them in the south, turning their way. Clockblocker was on the ground under Kid Win on the west, who was over the wood huts they'd been told to avoid, and Miss Militia and Aegis were coming around the edge of the bleachers to the east.

"No," Contract cut in, countermanding Beetle's impossible order, "Turn and go backwards, play chicken with the New Wave girls, then double back and cut between the wall and the bleachers and head toward Breen entrance."

Trusting Contract to know what she was doing, he obeyed. His arms were aching, he realized he'd dropped his gun under the stands when he seized Beetle, he didn't know how he was getting past Miss Militia and her air support, but he obeyed.

Laserdream tried to blast them as they moved forward, but Beetle swarmed both Laserdream and Glory Girl's faces, and they pulled back in reflex. "Dragon," Beetle said calmly as Intrepid swerved to avoid fire from Miss Militia, "Kid Win has open exhaust vents on his board. I stuff them with bugs, bringing down the board. To save on actual property damage…"

Immediately, Dragon announced on the general channel, "Kid Win, your board is no longer functioning. Land."

"Go left!" Contract shouted, her comm interrupting the announcement, even though Kid Win was to the right. Intrepid obeyed, shedding altitude and twisting back to the stands. As he did so, he saw Aegis and Miss Militia both fly off their feet and crash into Armsmaster. Evidently, Contract could lift more than 200 pounds.

At the same time, there was a shout of pain over the comm that Intrepid didn't think Fi meant for him to have heard. Since there was nothing to do about it, he ignored it, for now.

They rounded the bleachers and found a steel pipe four feet tall. Intrepid dropped Beetle so she could scramble inside, and then he followed her. Beetle kept going, and considering she had millions of bugs to tell her where to go, Intrepid followed. The pipe was welded, or joined somehow, to the nine foot pipe Beetle had promised, what felt like ages ago. Contract was already waiting for them, staring out a large crack in the pipe.

"Dragon," Beetle said, not acknowledging Contract, "can we talk to you, just the Green Team?"

"It's just us," Dragon said in his ear, and presumably in Beetle and Contract's too.

"I now have seven flags, but I'm not ready for this to end. How about, now that everyone's been out here at least once, when we kill them, they stay dead and don't get reinforcements?"

"As long as they don't manage to steal the flags from you, I will accept that. Are you two alright with that?"

"Absolutely," Contract whispered, still watching out the crack.

"Sure," Intrepid agreed, wondering what had happened to the ten minute deadline. "Why haven't they followed us in?"

"Only three entrances," Beetle answered, eyes unfocused as she continued to pay attention to her swarm. "Both ends of the pipe, and the one branch we came in on. Armsmaster thinks all four of their flags are still frozen by Clockblocker, which means there's no way we could have won yet. He can't wait us out indefinitely, but he thinks he can wait us out a little. Plus, no one wants to wade through the masses of bugs I've got over the pipe entrances."

"The flags are safe?" Intrepid double checked.

"Yes," Beetle said, focusing on him a little more. "What's our next move?"

"How do your bugs count as a hit?"

"I have to tell Dragon what I want to do, and then she tells me whether it's PR friendly and how much it counts for. Armsmaster gave her special instructions for me and me alone, after I sent some into his mouth."

Intrepid shuttered, but Contract looked away from the crack long enough to give Beetle an impressed glance. Intrepid spoke up first. "So what now?"

"Now, we take no prisoners." Contract opened a fanny pack and handed him three small, circular objects. "Paint grenades. I saw them on a shelf as we walked to the entrance. Technically, they're PRT equipment so they're legal. Make them count. You've got the air battle: Glory Girl, Laserdream, and Aegis. Get up on the scaffolding and use that for cover, but don't trust your full weight to it. You'll go out the four foot tunnel, because you can fly horizontally."

Contract turned to Beetle. "You need to take out Clockblocker and Shielder. I can't touch Clock because of his power, and ditto with Intrepid and Shielder." She handed over string, masking tape, hair spray, an exercise bottle mostly full of icewater, and a cell phone. "This is all stuff I normally keep in my purse. Can you use any of it?"

"Maybe?" Beetle sounded unsure, but she looked gleeful, and Intrepid didn't know whether to feel sorry for Beetle, or her enemies. It seemed impossible that those simple items could be used to take down two capes who had both been to Endbringer fights, but it also seemed impossible to doubt the manically eager grins on both girls' faces.

"Give Intrepid your gun," Contract told Beetle, reloading. "Since he dropped his retrieving you. " Intrepid quickly went to reload as well, but Beetle hadn't fired a single shot.

"You realize you have to take out Kid Win, Miss Militia, Armsmaster, and Triumph," Intrepid double checked with Contract.

"Triumph first," Beetle said, "he's using his shout to kill bugs by the bucket load."

"Got it. You stay here, keep running comms." Contract took off her fanny pack. "Feel free to use anything else you want," she told Beetle. Then she picked up her semi-automatic gun. "Let's do this thing."

[-]

Afterwards, as Panacea was healing everyone's bruises, sprains, and other minor injuries, they all watched as Contract and Clockblocker had a throw down about the exact, appropriate meaning of the words "full contact."

Because up until that point, Contract had been holding back.

[-]

Intrepid waited, several yards back from the pipe entrance, for Beetle to give the signal. Then, everything went utterly quiet. He started his two pre-programmed countdown clocks in the corner of his display.

Beetle stopped every bug in place for a single breath, taking away the terrifying buzzing he'd sort of tuned out, and then she brought the noises back at double or triple the volume. He shot skyward, and the four flying capes followed him as the Green Team had hoped they would. Intrepid turned himself toward the Blue entrance and went limp for a moment.

A freight train slammed into him, as Contract jerked all the flyers forward as hard as she could, just for a moment. Intrepid was ready for it, but the others weren't. While they were still disoriented, he got above them and shot down at them, pegging Glory Girl seven or eight times in fast succession until he heard her death announcement. He was able to land three hits on Laserdream before Shielder covered her and Aegis in his shell.

[-]

Contract would try to blame the escalation on Intrepid, who had wanted a slightly more solid plan than just calling targets, since they had the breathing room to work in.

[-]

Intrepid turned tail and headed for the ceiling, easily outpacing the other flyers, as he watched a second clock hit zero in his display. An updraft and several startled shouts told him that the hit from below (a plane of force this time, rather than five equal vectors) had caught the other flyers. Intrepid silently thanked Beetle for her creativity, which extended far beyond just her own powers.

[-]

Intrepid defended himself passionately, admitting no fault. The purpose of the exercise was to test out Contract's new powers. Until that point, all she had done was shoot like a badass, run like hell, make snap judgment calls, and perform a couple minor force-throws. He was just helping a teammate learn new applications for her abilities.

[-]

Intrepid reached and passed the top of the scaffold, pulling up and over it, looping back to see the other capes, his gun held straight in front of him. Like a fighter jet, he strafed the other flyers, who were not used to being armed with guns in combat. As he'd guessed, their guns were more of a distraction to them than a help, while he had years of practice with the various techniques. Laserdream was too slow on her shield and took her last hits, reluctantly dropping down.

Per his request, Dragon did not distract him with the general death announcement.

At the same time, Aegis was thrown across the entire breadth of the room, impacting the far wall, and was held there until his hits, too, expired.

Behind him, Shielder's field popped as he let it go, and Intrepid took a light blast before Beetle's bugs detonated a grenade in his face.

[-]

Clockblocker gave up on that particular line of attack, and turned back to Contract. He then attempted, in vain, to explain the concept of overkill to her. She refused to admit his point, but Intrepid could kinda see where he was coming from.

[-]

The grenade was designed to simulate an actual hand grenade, capable of clearing a small room. It contained enough paint to coat Shielder's entire body, and Intrepid escaped the blast radius only because he'd been shoved further away by the previous hit from Shielder's hard light.

The last of the flyers dealt with, Intrepid whirled in the air to head for Clockblocker, who was being bombarded by various pieces of debris and masses of bugs. Presumably, this meant that the various other telekinetic attacks that they had discussed had proven to be beyond Fi's coordination abilities. It was time for the last resort.

Before Armsmaster or Miss Militia could make it over to the Ward, Intrepid swept as low as he dared and emptied the ice water over Clockblocker's head. As they'd hoped, he reflexively froze himself, which was enough to tip his hit count over the ten hit threshold. Intrepid then brushed past the entrances of several pipes, taking none of them and holding back from his top speed, the two Protectorate leaders hot on his trail as he dodged their fire.

[-]

The next day at school, Taylor would grouse to Jason that there was now a special list of things Beetle was not allowed to do in full-contact combat simulations, a list of things she was not allowed to do in any combat situation, and a list of things she was not allowed to do, ever.

[-]

Swarms burst from the pipes where they'd been hiding from Triumph's destructive shouts while Beetle allowed Team Blue to believe they were slowly diminishing her forces. This time, she didn't simulate with Dragon, she just out flat swarmed the heroes. Intrepid didn't look back to see exactly what that meant.

Instead, he cut inside the next tunnel and popped out near the center of the obstacle course. He found Triumph, looking startled and covered in Contract's yellow paint splatters. Kid Win as sitting on his gun, and both he and the gun were completely black, which indicated another grenade hit.

They'd won.

[-]

The best part of the immediate debrief, however, came after Contract apologized to Aegis for breaking his bones, even if it was only temporary. Aegis just gave her a confused look.

"It's okay. You didn't break anything."

Contract's brow wrinkled, but she was still wearing her visor so her confusion had nothing to do with actually understanding the Protectorate hero. "I threw you into a wall as hard as I could. Considering the other forces I exerted today, I know I broke at least something. You don't have to spare my feelings."

"Um, Contract, he isn't," Panacea reassured her from the next chair over where she was restoring Shielder's sight after the paint grenade had gotten in his eyes. "I already checked, because the way he hit the wall could have hurt his spine. Nothing worse than bruising."

Dragon piped up. "It was a busy battle. You probably didn't hit him as hard as you thought." Contract snorted in a way that made it clear she doubted that, so Dragon continued in a conciliatory tone, "Maybe you're not as strong as you thought, then."

In answer, Contract turned around and lifted the huge cement pipe that was the backbone of the course. Her pose as she did so combined with his own late night summation from just a few days ago, clicked in Intrepid's brain, and he started laughing.

It was impossible. But she had admitted that she'd been in a rush, and if she'd been thinking about her "new powers" for awhile, she might have nicknamed them. It was certainly the first association he'd made.

"What?" Contract finally ground out in response to his hilarity.

"You're a Jedi," he gasped, trying to catch his breath. Everyone else looked confused, but Contract pinked in embarrassment. She saw the problem immediately, as he had.

Contract hadn't specified a certain strength for her telekinesis, or any other particular limits. She hadn't had the time or the emotional stability to do so. Instead, she'd used her own mental shorthand. Maybe that nickname had referred to carefully laid out specifications, but he didn't think she'd gotten that far, or she'd have already implemented the contract. The details had still been up in the air.

So Contract hadn't thrown in "telekinesis and precognition." She'd thrown in "Jedi powers," trying to encompass all her previous work but not really focusing on it through the distraction of the Endbringer situation and the other contract clauses. But in the Star Wars movies, the physics of the Force never made mathematical sense. People were tossed around and got back up without issue, or perhaps a little soreness at most. Even though Luke could lift an X wing fighter, and Contract could lift what was likely a half a ton of concrete, neither of them would ever kill an opponent by tossing them into a wall.

It also explained why she had just problems with fine manipulation, or manipulating multiple targets. Normal telekinetics could trip people by untying their shoelaces or setting other traps, but "the Force" wasn't that subtle. She could lift a thousand-pound pipe when she was calm, thinking clearly, and focused. But the kind of fine manipulation that they'd tried earlier was never what "the Force" was intended to do.

"Shut up," Contract said as Intrepid kept laughing. He couldn't stop even though he wanted to breathe, so she shoved him over and he ended up hovering to avoid falling on the side that Shielder had bruised. "Shut up," she repeated through her smile.

Beetle didn't know enough to get the joke, but she knew enough to play off of it, "Not the powers you were looking for?"

In answer, Contract raised the paint handgun she still had clipped to her belt, and shot Beetle's chestplate five times.

[-]

"Green Team has won," Dragon's voice said over the general channel as Contract dropped down from the pipe she'd been laying on, landing lightly next to Intrepid.

"Ready for round two?" she asked cavalierly. Dragon evidently decided this response was directed to the general channel, because Intrepid heard the comment echoed in his comm link.

"Excuse me?" Triumph huffed. Contract shrugged, though most of her audience couldn't see her.

"Well, we've only covered what, like, twenty percent of the arena? And I'm betting y'all haven't figured out my powers yet. So unless Panacea is getting tired, I'm ready for round two. I don't want to take advantage of her in the least, but I'm locked and loaded."

Contract paused for a moment, as though something had just occurred to her, but Intrepid could see enough of her facial expression that he wasn't fooled. "Actually, I was wondering about that. Panacea is doing the most work of any of us here, but she gets the least amount of fun. Why isn't she running around with a paintball gun?"

Panacea's voice came over the line, sounding a bit meek. "Well, I can't heal myself, so it's not safe."

Contract sniffed. "Regular people go paintballing all the time. And the PRT suits are pretty decent protection anyways. Oh! Here's an idea! We'll make you the flag! One team is tasked with protecting you, the other with kidnapping you.

"And since you're a highly respected and very valuable healer, if either team harms you in the least, it counts against them in twice the number of hits. I mean, you're not made of glass, but we shouldn't take unnecessary risks, either."

There was an awkward moment of silence on the line, before Contract stumbled on, sounding a bit embarrassed. "Unless you don't want to, of course. I don't want to make you uncomfortable and if you don't want to be in here, then far be it from me to pressure you. I just thought… well… I want you to get something out of this too."

"No, no," Panacea hurried to reassure Contract, "that actually sounds like a ton of fun…" she trailed off. "So who's protecting me?"

"I think that's _your_ call," Intrepid answered. "You want New Wave to do it?"

"Let's take ten minutes, outside, and do this right," Armsmaster cut in. "You and Contract go back out the Green door so you don't see more of the arena. Everyone meet in conference room six, and we'll lay out the next set of encounter parameters."

* * *

Round two started with Intrepid, Panacea, and Contract entering from the Blue door with exactly thirty seconds of head start. The round would last ten minutes, or until a team was completely killed. Whichever team had "possession" of Panacea at that time would win.

The rules for the hits had changed, and basically boiled down to Dragon determining what harm a hit could have done in serious combat, and then crippling capes accordingly. Beetle, Vista, and Glory Girl were waiting in the wings to join the Blue Team if they managed to live past the three minute mark.

(Armsmaster had forbidden Beetle from starting on the Blue Team a second time, since she'd effectively seen the whole arena already with her bugs. He'd also changed Contract and Intrepid from the Green team to the Blue team so that they'd be entering the course from new territory. After brief discussion, Intrepid and Contract had agreed that for their purposes the Blue door was still north, the huts were still west, the Green door was still south, and the high-ground sparsely-shielded wall was still east.)

Kid Win, Triumph, Gallant, and Clockblocker represented the opening Team Green, and they would be reinforced by Shielder, Laserdream, and Aegis at the five minute mark. Miss Militia would enter the arena at the seven minute mark as her own team, working just to kill off other players. Armsmaster was sitting this one out.

As soon as the buzzer sounded, Intrepid pushed the door open and flew up into the air, looking for a good place to surprise the other team from. Meanwhile, Contract took Panacea and went towards the wooden huts, looking for a place to hide out and pick off the other team. They were hoping to end the round early and easily, before Team Green gained the aerial advantage, but it would be difficult without the grenades and other extra equipment, which had been removed from Contract's inventory.

Well, the used and revealed items had been removed. Intrepid thought she might still have a few more tricks that hadn't been explicitly banned yet, but they were going to try to save those for round three, assuming they were still on the same team. If they weren't, Intrepid was having her strip searched. She was terrifying enough without whatever she had snuck into her pockets.

"We're set," Contract's voice said in his commlink as Intrepid chose a pyramid of pipes stacked three tall as his perch. It put him a little south-east of the middle of the field. "Pan and I have switched guns, so she's shooting yellow shots and I'm pink. About twenty yards from the south wall. She's in the window in front of mine. We've got connected houses we can drop back to."

"Good idea with the bait and switch, Fi."

"Actually, it was Pan's."

"Good idea," Intrepid repeated. "Ever shot before Pan?"

"No," she admitted. Intrepid cursed the fact that they hadn't had any chance to prep outside the door this time. They'd come straight from the team gathering to the Blue door and Dragon had ushered them into the field immediately.

"The key is just to keep firing." Contract told her. "These bullets are cheap, they won't do any damage, and one shot gives away your location just as well as twelve. Fire in bursts, then pause to breathe and flush a little adrenaline, then fire another burst."

"Head's up," Intrepid interrupted Contract's impromptu tutoring, noting the last five seconds counting down on his display.

When the counter hit zero, there was a pause before the Green door opened, then the four Green opponents entered, all on foot, and all in identical PRT jumpsuits. Kid Win didn't even have his hoverboard, so there was no way to distinguish them from each other.

"Hold fire," Contract barked. The four capes ran for cover, then all stopped and surveyed the silent battlefield. No one stirred. Intrepid had line of sight on three of their enemies from his position, but he wasn't sure of his ability to kill them. "Aim for the back of the knees," Contract whispered on the comms. "The material is thinner there for flexibility. Dragon, you told us to pick what bullets we're firing for you to do your calculations. Pan's got hollowpoints for their punch value. I've got 22 magnum to take advantage of my accuracy. Red's firing armor-piercing rounds. Make sure to add his velocity where applicable."

One of the capes held fingers above his head, counting down from five. Intrepid relayed into his comm, "Movement in five, four..."

"Fire as soon as they jump, Pan. Red, only if you've got a clean shot," Contract spoke over him.

"...three, two, one!"

The three capes closest to the wood huts left cover and raced toward the entrance to the 9 foot tall "spine" tunnel that Intrepid's team had used in the previous round.

"Three in the spine!" Intrepid reported while he lined up a careful shot on the one cape who was lying stretched on the ground, covering his team's advance.

A burst of firing from the huts had the prone cape bringing his gun toward the girls' hiding place, so Intrepid fired and hit the back of his left knee. The bullet burst and the cape jerked in actual pain. Intrepid fired a small burst into the cape's back, shoulder, and chest as he turned.

"Gallant is dead. Remain where you are, Gallant," Dragon instructed.

All three of the running capes had made it to the spine, and they hadn't come out yet. Panacea's voice came over the channel.

"Red, cover the spine exit by you. Fi's going to the north end of the huts to cover the other side from in here. I've got a good hiding place in a tiny attic about the middle of the neighborhood. We've switched guns back, because Fi nailed two of them in the right hand. We're hoping that they'll assume she's shooting pink and I'm yellow, when really we switched back."

"I can see both south spine exit and the little branch, but I can only cover one while I'm sighting and ready to fire."

"Cover the main. I'll watch the branch opening at top of the slope," Panacea assured him.

"Movement in a crack three quarters of the way down the pipe, to the north," Contract cut in.

"Shifting shadows on this end too," Intrepid answered her. The three Green capes had split up.

"When they come out, Red, fire a bunch then fly over above where Pan was at before."

"They'll come straight for you if you don't have someone covering," Intrepid argued, but the other capes were already bursting out of the spine, two on Contract's end and one on Intrepid's.

Intrepid took a moment to assess the situation, then decided to do as he'd been told. If nothing else, he could present an alternative target. He got in several main body shots, but the other cape wasn't slowing and Dragon wasn't talking, so Intrepid fired at the feet instead as he launched himself towards the huts. He settled a little north of where Panacea's occasional pink bullets were coming from.

The cape that Intrepid had hit sat down, probably at Dragon's insistence, but kept firing at Intrepid. Panacea's fourth pink splatter hit his neck and Dragon declared, "Clockblocker is dead."

At this, Triumph suddenly shouted, activating his full power, and most of the northernmost hut disintegrated. In answer, Contract fired a lot more bullets and Intrepid and Panacea turned their weapons in that direction too. It was over pretty quickly.

* * *

All in all, they ran twelve rounds, and only three lasted longer than ten minutes. Intrepid ended up on a team that wasn't Beetle's exactly twice, and both times he was grateful when he was killed and spared her attention. He never faced Contract, which was surely thanks to someone's purposeful planning. Though whether he could thank Clockblocker, Armsmaster, Dragon, or all three of them was a question he wasn't going to investigate too carefully. Over the course of the rounds they worked together better and better, enough that enemy teams started to realize they had to target him just to cut down on Fi's mobility.

Contract participated in ten of the twelve rounds, and lost only two. First, she lost to a vicious combination of Beetle, Vista, and Clockblocker who coordinated beautifully to find her, trap her, and freeze her in just under a minute after his own death.

The last round was Miss Militia against Contract, and went on for eighteen minutes and twenty-two seconds, with the two women sneaking around each other, taking shots, and failing to connect. It finally ended when Contract took a gambit of rushing Miss Militia, levitating a shield in front of herself, only for Dragon to insist that Miss Militia's bullets had shredded the paint-covered shield. Contract later sheepishly admitted to Intrepid that she'd forgotten that Miss Militia, unlike other players on the field, got to change simulated ammo as often as she liked.

Overall, the day included just under ninety minutes of simulated battle, and more than four hours of preparation and debriefings. They broke it up, having a debriefing after round four, and then following every other round thereafter.

It was exhausting, but also very satisfying.

* * *

After they made it back to the Wards base, and everyone had a hot shower and change of clothes, Fi plopped into a seat next to Jason, still wearing her combat visor, which had been scrubbed of paint but still held evidence of their war games in the cracks.

"I'm gonna sleep here tonight," she said without preamble. "It's nothing against you, I promise."

"You sure?" Jason asked, a little concerned about her staying here alone. "Want me to stay with you?"

"No, Jason, go home to your family. I need a little space, and I need to talk to Armsmaster, and I want to give everyone a night without guard duty while I use today's wild success to convince Armsmaster I _don't_ need a constant guard." She glanced down at her hands, and Jason gave her a minute, letting her gather her thoughts.

"You've been an absolute rock. And I appreciate that. You stuck up for me about the Triumvirate, you heard me out on Saturday night, you've been nothing but straight with me and I needed that. I needed someone to lean on. I might need that again tomorrow. But tonight, I have to know what happens if I'm alone. I have to know if I'm going to break down completely, or not."

"You don't have to do that tonight," Jason told her, even though she hadn't looked up. He trusted her tinker-visor to write it out for her.

"I think I do," she whispered back. "Today was great, don't get me wrong, but it also highlighted just how badly my situational awareness has been affected."

Jason bit his lip, remembering her face during the debriefings. The other capes had been thrilled with her precognition, and the barely-in-time warnings it gave her. It was the only way she could survive in a battlefield environment without her hearing to let her watch her own back. But despite her precognition, she had taken a lot of glancing blows. Her shoulders and arms had been covered in deflected paint by the end of the day, evidence of her dodging not-quite-far-enough and her partially-failed telekinetic deflections. He could tell that she wasn't satisfied with the substitution.

He remembered other things too, things he hadn't decided whether he was writing up for Armsmaster and Clockblocker or not. During her fifth battle, against Vista, Clockblocker, Gallant, and Aegis, Contract had managed to scale the pipe-pyramid, and then had run the length of the top pipe, leaping the distance to the scaffolding, where she'd caught herself one-handed. Or rather, failed to catch herself.

She'd fallen nearly two stories, landing on and breaking her left wrist. The snap had echoed over the whole course, and Contract hadn't moved. Her teammates had raced towards her, both in worry and (maybe a little) for the purpose of the battle. She'd shot them on their approach, with the gun she still held in her right hand, and Dragon had determined that the point-blank shots were "fatal" for the purposes of the round, giving her victory.

Clockblocker had assumed the injury and fake-out were purposeful and had given her a hard time about appropriate levels of intensity in a mock battle, but Intrepid remembered that she'd sacrificed some use of her left hand, and he didn't think it was intentional.

That had been just one out of a number of close calls. Contract had slid by on the skin of her teeth in multiple encounters, and when the praise was handed out during the debriefings, she accepted it with stoic grace. It could be good sportsmanship, but Jason was pretty sure that she was berating herself for not running faster, jumping further, shooting better, dodging quicker, or hitting harder.

He wasn't sure what to say, in the face of all of that.

 _You'll get better?_ She might not, and certainly not quickly. She was deaf, she was short, she had given up dexterity. These were not easy things to compensate for.

 _It's okay?_ It wasn't. They lived in one of the most dangerous cities in America. Her life now revolved around routine field combat. More worryingly, there was a slim chance they'd have to fight Scion, or fight some of the Triumvirate for the right to hear the information needed to fight Scion. Contract couldn't hold her own in a simulation against half a Wards team, and her abilities were better than his.

"Call me, if you need anything," Jason offered. "I'll come over, or I'll come pick you up and take you to my house, or we'll go sit on the Boardwalk." She didn't answer. "Promise me, Fi. Promise me you'll call if it gets bad."

She was quiet, but he waited. Finally, she murmured, "I promise." She stood up, considering the conversation closed, but Jason wasn't about to let her walk away depressed.

He reached out to touch her as he said, "Goodnight, Jedi."

She turned and smiled, small but genuine. "Goodnight, Red."


	34. Parenting Your Gifted Child

**Chapter Thirty-Four: Parenting Your Gifted Child**

 **March 24, 2011**

Colin accompanied the Wards back to the PRT base, and then holed up in his lab to review the footage from the mock battles and the following debriefs. As he did so, he tried to convince himself that he was being paranoid, seeing things, worrying for nothing. Instead, everything he saw reinforced what he'd noticed throughout the day.

Security notified him when the last of the Wards, except for Fi herself, left the building. When Colin checked her location, he found that she was already on her way up, without him needing to summon her. He blacked out his screens but left the videos queued up to where he'd been watching, just in case he needed them. Then he took the papers he'd printed earlier in the day, put them in a file folder, and set them on the end table next to the chair that Fi had used the last time she visited him.

Finally, he stood and walked over to his lab door, arriving just in time to let her in and save her the trouble of knocking. She smiled timidly when she saw him, and murmured a perfunctory hello. She was wearing another white shirt over casual jeans, and Colin reminded himself again to check on the status of her wardrobe as suggested by Intrepid's mother.

She was also wearing the visor he'd made for her. He'd been working on it even before she went deaf, but he'd prioritized it after Saturday. In addition to having a built-in computer to run an improved version of the he-said-she-said beta program, he had given her basic communication links, online access, heads-up warnings, and several emergency response options. While it fit over her mask, Glenn wanted him to encourage her to use the technology to replace the leather.

"Can we talk?" she asked, rubbing her own arms, and Colin realized he'd zoned out on her, as he sometimes did when he was trying to come out of a tinker funk.

"Of course." He gestured toward the door to his quarters, and she meekly walked in that direction. Colin took the time to study her posture. He hadn't seen her be sincerely meek often enough to have a good statistical sample, but she didn't seem to be faking. He shook his head, focused again on the actual events happening around him, and followed Fi into the living room.

As always, she sat in the armchair and faced the rest of the room. She also curled her feet up under her, which meant she wasn't preparing to flee. Colin had a number of things he wanted to address with her, but since she had taken the initiative to come to him, he decided to let her start.

"Was there anything in particular you wanted to talk about?" he asked as he took a seat on the couch across from her. It wasn't the first time he'd talked to her in completely civilian dress, without part or all of his power armor on. But somehow, without being sure why, this time he was reminded of the fact that Contract was never unarmed.

She shifted uncomfortably, looking thirteen instead of sixteen, and he couldn't pinpoint where the thought had come from. Fi didn't look particularly dangerous, at the moment.

"Just seems like there's a lot of stuff we should discuss." She paused, took a deep breath, and then tacked on, "What with the legal guardianship and all."

Colin nodded, even though she wasn't looking at him. "Do you have any questions?"

She shrugged, looking toward him, presumably meeting his eyes, although it was impossible to be sure behind the visor. "Are you going to keep it?" Colin was surprised, and she must have seen it in his face because she hurried on. "You don't have to. I know it's just a formality that Legend twisted out of the courts for his convenience. If you wanted to pass it on to Piggot or Miss Militia or whoever, no one would blame you."

"Fi," he cut in, "do not you want me to be your legal guardian?"

She shrugged, again, but didn't look away. She seemed almost defiant. "It's not like you asked for this."

"I'm ashamed to say I didn't think about it at all," he admitted, and this time it was her turn to look shocked. "You were so self-possessed that when the file summaries didn't mention your guardian, it didn't occur to me to ask who it was. And for that, I'm sorry."

She cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Not your responsibility."

"Actually, it is." At his correction, she seemed to see the irony and her face twisted into a self-mocking expression.

"Right. Well, um, I forgive you." She still seemed a little off balance, but not insincere.

Colin had put a lot of thought into how he was going to handle his new responsibilities. He _had_ considered signing over the guardianship to Miss Militia, Director Piggot, or even a Protectorate couple like Battery and Assault. But every time he tried to picture her reaction, he instead was reminded of what she'd reluctantly shared with him on Friday night, before disaster struck. She'd been passed from adult to adult before, and though it hadn't broken her, it obviously had affected her.

He wasn't the best person to be a father-figure, or whatever it was he was supposed to do now. He didn't know how to discipline, or when, or even if that was what Fi needed. He was not the person anyone would have chosen to handle the care and keeping of an emotionally fragile teenager.

But he also wasn't blind enough to think that shuffling her off onto someone else wouldn't have its own consequences. So, through happenstance and circumstance, he was what she had, and they would both have to make the best of it.

"I have an apartment," he said, not sure how else to breach the subject. "I don't tend to spend much time there, between patrol and tinkering and these quarters, but," he cleared his throat, "I thought I'd show it to you, tonight."

The thunderstruck expression was back. "Why?" she asked blankly.

"Fi," he said as gently as possible, "you didn't really think I was going to have you live on Intrepid's couch, or here in the PRT base, did you?"

She shrugged, and shifted so that her knees were more in front of her, than under her. Colin didn't need a software program to tell him she was putting up barriers. " _You_ do. Live here, I mean."

Colin nodded, allowing the point. "But I choose to do so. I'm satisfied with that lifestyle, and I maintain another option for when this gets too stressful. That's why I have an apartment."

Fi looked thoughtful, so Colin gave her time to process everything. His ongoing projects weren't critical, and he'd already blocked off the rest of the evening to spend with Fi. In a way, she was actually his most sensitive project at the moment.

"You're really serious about this. About… guardianship," she finally mused aloud, tripping over the last word.

"I am," he confirmed, and she nodded, then broke eye contact. He decided to change tracks, and come back to the idea of where they would or wouldn't sleep. "In light of that, there are a couple things that Legend should have discussed with you, but it appears he chose to wait until you were more settled."

She looked back to him, more patient than curious, but her lips did twitch a little in some morbid sort of humor. Colin didn't try to guess what she'd found amusing.

"The rewards for killing Behemoth come to a total of 320 million dollars. Legend chose to deposit this sum into your Ward's trust account." Fi nodded, totally unphased.

At his questioning glance, she shrugged. "I spent my time in New York deaf, but not stupid. Jouster had a paper copy of my file and he wasn't careful where he left it. He didn't have access to the record of my Ward trust, of course, but I could read between the lines."

Colin nodded his understanding, and decided to indulge in a point of personal curiosity. "His summary said that you rarely addressed him in anything except Portuguese?"

"It was _Latin_ , and a little Italian. He just rubbed me the wrong way. Reminded me of someone." She didn't elaborate, and he didn't push her. God only knew there were people he'd love to shout at occasionally, if he thought it would do any good.

"How many languages do you speak?" he asked with a wry smile.

She returned it as she answered, "More than you."

He tilted his head to acknowledge the point, then pulled them back on track again. "What would you like to do with the reward for the other two Endbringers?"

Her startled look returned, but her grip on her knees had lessened until she was sitting almost cross-legged, so he counted it as progress. "What?"

"It's close to another half billion dollars, all told. That's a lot of responsibility right now. If you don't want to think about it for another two years, then the trust isn't a bad way to go about it. Or you could put it in a long-term investment option, or you could manage it more closely. What do you want to do?"

Her expression changed throughout his questions until she was looking at him like he was some sort of interesting problem. "You're not going to tell me what to do?"

"I'll offer my advice if you want it." She nodded slowly, which Colin took as permission to continue. "I think you should put it in a long-term investment option for the foreseeable future. It will be accessible if you really need it, but it won't be hanging over your head. And they say you're not supposed to make major life decisions after a personal loss. I think 500 million dollars counts as a major life decision."

He'd gone over and over in his head how he wanted to approach the topic of Ash's death. Finally, after research and talking to Dragon, he'd decided on this approach: factual, open if she wanted to talk about it, but not pushing.

She nodded. "Okay. I'll think about it. Can we deal with it another time?" He nodded, but didn't speak. After waiting another moment or two, she took the opening, just as he had hoped she would. "Just how much have you found about Ash?"

"A bit," Colin admitted. She hunched over a bit, shrinking in, but she didn't bring her knees back up so he continued softly. "He was born under the name David Striker, and he was set to graduate from MIT at a young age. He dropped out of normal society after his roommate killed himself while Ash was asleep in the same room, and that's when he changed his name."

She nodded, not surprised by the narrative, but not pleased that he knew it either. "As far as I can tell," Colin continued carefully, "he joined some sort of underground society. He associated with people and places that have limited or no legal footprint. He spent his time making money on the stock market, breaking into secure networks, and skimming electronic funds from villains, gangs, and other criminal organizations."

He took a deep breath, but Fi wasn't reacting so he decided to keep going. "He was killed by a man named Lucius, as you already know. Lucius was, I think, a member of the same secret society, or else a very similar one. He also entered it after being very close to, but not directly involved in, violence. The same seems to be true for many of these secret citizens."

Now, Colin did stop. Fi was staring down at her hands, twisting her fingers together over and over again. Twice, she took a deep breath but didn't actually speak. Finally, she talked, but she still didn't look up. "I guess I knew this day was coming." She sounded weary, defeated, in a way he hadn't heard before. "Who have you told?"

She looked up reluctantly as she asked the question, perhaps unable to stop herself from trying to judge his sincerity. "No one," Colin told her, simply and confidently. Her eyebrows rose in skepticism.

"Director Piggot knows that Ash was shot, as do Dragon and the Triumvirate. From the surveillance of that night, they know that his name was Ashland. That, and whatever else they can personally glean from the video call recording, is all they know. I asked Dragon to leave the issue in my jurisdiction, and she has. I have involved no one else in my investigation."

Skepticism was slowly giving way to hope on her features. "Are you saying that you're not going to tell them?"

Colin shrugged his shoulders, but in a deliberate way, not out of casualness. There were a number of issues to address here, and the reasons he would give her were not his deepest reasons, but they were true enough and easier for her to accept. "And tell them what? That I saw a bar burn down in the middle of a bunch of cotton fields in Texas? While I was illegally accessing satellite footage? There are no records of the bar, no evidence that the fields are anything other than a legitimate farm being run by a dead man."

Her expression of hope remained guarded and wary. She was waiting for the other shoe to drop, so he didn't make her wait for long. "They might believe me, they might not. If I'm satisfied with the results of my investigation, there would be no reason for either of us to find out."

"What do you want to know?" She was still studying him, deciding whether to trust him or not. In light of that, he decided to be blunt. It was working pretty well so far.

"Are they a danger to society?"

"No. Absolutely not. They're protecting it."

"By breaking into FBI records?" he pressed.

She hesitated, and he could see an idea occurring to her, slotting into place. "Imagine that Scion hadn't appeared," she said slowly. "Imagine that capes were… a little less conspicuous. Not less powerful, but… less obvious. Imagine that most people didn't even know for sure that capes existed. There were rumors, tall tales, but nothing concrete."

She took a deep breath, still choosing her words carefully. "Imagine a world like that. And then imagine that just like today, there are good capes and bad capes. Ones that kill, and ones that save. When a cape killed someone, it wouldn't be safe for the police to investigate. They wouldn't believe what they found, they couldn't do anything about it, and they might piss the cape off and get themselves killed. In fact, even today, it's not really safe. That's why the PRT handles it. But in this imaginary world, there's no PRT. So who could handle it? Who could save the officers who would try to investigate? Who could stop a villain before they killed again?"

He could see where her analogy was going. "A hero."

"A vigilante," she answered. "Not a government hero. No one sanctioned. But just because you didn't have a badge… well, you couldn't just let people die, because the government didn't believe. And you couldn't tell people, even good people, even officers or agents. If you told them, they'd lock you up, or get themselves hurt by getting in over their heads."

Colin turned that information over in his mind. It was a plausible scenario, a nice fairy tale even, and it sort of fit the available facts, but not perfectly. "We do have the PRT, though. And the Protectorate."

"We weren't hunting capes," she replied easily. "We weren't even hunting humans." He started to protest, but she didn't stop to listen. "Capes have opened doorways between worlds. For the most part, those places have been empty, or they've been similar to us. But what if a door got opened, and the other side tried to eat us?"

She said it flippantly, and the way she was carefully coaching her scenario in hypothetical questions made him pretty sure that she was misleading him, but trying not to out-and-out lie. It rankled, but he could practically picture his social software flashing on the visor he wasn't wearing, telling him to take a moment and think through the situation.

This was obviously difficult for Fi to talk about. She didn't seem like she was trying to mess with him, just reluctant to give him the full story. Everything he had found about her past life indicated that they clung to their secrecy. That secrecy had been drilled into her for most of her life.

He needed to look at this thin explanation as an olive branch, and try to fit it into the larger picture available to him. But that could wait. First he had to react to Fi's sideways explanation.

Fi had shown that she had a lot of knowledge, presumably knowledge that came from Ash or other members of this secret community. With that knowledge came power, and perhaps the key was to look at how they were using that power. Fi, at least, seemed to be using it to save lives.

She'd thrown the fox among the chickens with her accusations against the Triumvirate, but it could have been much worse. She'd exposed their secrets in the relative safety of the PRT base, under an Endbringer truce, and only after being prompted by Alexandria. It had also been necessary for the destruction of the Endbringers.

If she'd been trying to destroy the Triumvriate, as she seemingly had good reason to do, she could have made her accusations in New York immediately after killing Behemoth. With most of the Protectorate listening and a large number of hero and villain Thinkers on the line to confirm the truth of what she said, she could have destroyed the Protectorate in a heartbeat. She hadn't.

He wasn't sure that he completely trusted her or her judgment, she _was_ still just a teenager, but he didn't trust his superiors either anymore. Between the two, he'd choose Fi, which was the real reason he hadn't told anyone else about his discoveries until he'd had a chance to debrief with her.

Fi was trying to tell him that her family, her past, were not evil people. They weren't kidnapping and torturing minors. They weren't creating Endbringers. They weren't squeaky-clean either, but he'd already known that. Fi seemed to know their secrets, and she was willing to defend them. For now, her vague reassurances were enough. He'd keep digging, but he'd keep the results to himself. It was time to move onto the next potential issues with her past.

"Are you in danger from any of them?"

"No," she answered simply.

Colin scowled, and selected a sound byte to play from his phone. It was one of several phrases he wanted to have on-hand, word-perfect, if it was needed.

 _"Christopher swore a blood oath."_

 _"Any idea where he is?"_

 _"Last report said Oregon. But it's not as bad as it could be. He stood up in Council and volunteered his own wording. The exact phrase is 'if given reasonable opportunity.' Most of the younger generation followed suit, if they swore anything at all."_

She didn't respond immediately, so he asked, "If given reasonable opportunity to do what?"

"To kill me," she said in the same straightforward, factual tone. As though it didn't matter or worry her in the least. Then she sighed, already knowing that this wouldn't fly. "This is… a cultural thing. Not easy to explain. Try to let me get through the whole thing?"

Grudgingly, he nodded. This conversation with Fi was nothing like their previous interactions where she had been straightforward, and either honest or silent. This round-about, drawn-out sort of communication was harder for him to trust, but he had to make allowances for the trauma she had experienced in the previous week.

"A blood oath is sacred. In more than 5,000 years of legacy, one generation to the next, none of us has ever broken a blood oath of our own volition. It is the one thing that binds us together, that allows us to survive. Not everyone is even allowed to make a blood oath. You have to prove yourself honorable enough to be worthy of making one."

She swallowed heavily. "So understand that this isn't lip service. It's not a bluff and it's not a ploy. Christopher swore that if given reasonable opportunity, he would kill me. And if he is given reasonable opportunity, that is what he will do. It's as close to a fact of nature as a human intention can be."

Colin couldn't see her eyes behind the visor, but her face became a little tenser, and her shoulders tightened up. "If given reasonable opportunity, however, is the very lightest of oaths. I'm surprised it was even accepted. Given my well known capacity to defend myself, I'd have to be practically comatose for the oath to even apply."

She stopped talking then, even though the explanation didn't feel finished. Despite her insistence that he not interrupt, he felt like she needed a prodding to continue.

"If it's not a concern, why would Ash warn you in a time-sensitive environment?"

She swallowed, but didn't seem upset at his input. "He was concerned I might throw all caution into the wind and call Chris for a snap to Australia. Chris is a teleporter, you see. He can send people to any place he knows, and he can retrieve people he knows well, if his passenger takes certain steps to give him the opportunity. Putting my life in Chris' hands, with the blood oath in play, would practically require Chris to drop me in the most dangerous place available."

Her fingers were picking at something on the knee of her jeans that Colin couldn't see clearly, but she kept talking even without looking towards him. "It was also Ash's way of letting me know that Lucius and Gordon had been curtailed. They've been out for my blood for years, and no doubt they wanted a much more stringent oath. This was his way of letting me know they'd lost the debate and been outmaneuvered."

She obviously didn't like discussing the subject, but as both her supervisor and her guardian he needed an explicit answer. "To be clear, people in your past are now actively trying to kill you, and you are not in the least bit concerned about this?"

She looked up with a smirk. "That's correct."

Colin just stared at her, trying to understand her perspective, or indeed any perspective that could account for her confidence. He didn't like the answer he found, and demanded, "Do you have a death wish?"

Fi snorted and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Excuse me?" Her tone was cavalier, but her body language was far less casual.

"You nearly killed yourself more than once this afternoon. All told, you suffered twelve broken bones, more than thirty cracks or fractures, significant bruising, twists or strains of your ankles, elbows, and knees, and even some head trauma. All of this in a _simulation_ situation. You ran headlong into Miss Militia's fire. You risked yourself, used your own position as bait, always took the most dangerous tactical position, threw yourself into the line of fire to intercept hits, and generally discarded your own physical safety."

As he listed out his worries, her face grew more somber, and he felt his anger giving way to the fear that had been lurking in his gut ever since she'd landed with a resounding crack and failed to move.

When he was done, she was silent for a while, turning over what he'd said, and he gave her time. They both needed to recoup from his little rant. Finally, she reached up and took off her visor and mask, so that they could look each other squarely in the eye.

"I'm not afraid of Death. I have been risking my life for close to a decade now, by my own choices and for causes that I believe in. I have seen teammates die. I have seen innocent people killed because I was too slow, or too late, or busy elsewhere. I have killed. Death and I are old companions.

"And yes, there was an occasion where I was suicidal."

His breath caught in his throat, and Colin opened his mouth to say something, anything, but she dropped her gaze and he shut his mouth, because she wouldn't hear him.

"I am not that girl anymore. When Death comes for me, I will face him with courage, but I do not seek him. I wasn't trying to hurt myself today. Every maneuver I made, I expected to succeed in. If I had been in that simulation last December, I would have survived all ten rounds without anything worse than bruising and scratches. I would have had to win differently. I might have lost a few more rounds.

"But I would not have suffered the injuries I did. I pushed myself today to figure out where my limits are. Turns out they're a lot closer than they used to be. I can't afford to discover that in the field. I can't trust my own body right now. And until I figure out my new limits, or figure out how to push myself back to my old limits, I'm a liability. If today had been actual combat, there's a good chance I would have died. That's not how I want to meet my death."

She looked back up, and then put her visor back on. "I'm sorry, for worrying you. I didn't mean for today to be quite that traumatic for myself or for anyone else."

Colin studied her, and was sure that she was speaking the truth. He'd still go over the recording later with his lie detector to be sure, but she sounded sincere. "It wasn't just your physical injuries. You showed an alarming tendency to put yourself in the line of fire, even when it wasn't strictly necessary. You rarely let anyone else take a risk if you had anything to say about it."

She shrugged. "Oops? That's a holdover from my previous fighting style. Depending on who I was with, there's a good chance that I would be the only cape on the field. It made sense for me to take the most dangerous position because as a parahuman I was the most adaptable, and I'm equally capable if not more so on the mundane side of things. I don't let teammates take risks if I think I've got a better chance of walking away. And I'm used to having the best chance of walking away."

Colin ran a hand over his head, able to see where she was coming from but not liking it. "That was before. You yourself just said that you're not up to that standard anymore."

"I still wipe the floor with any Ward, hand to hand, except possibly Clockblocker."

"Capes don't do a lot of hand to hand combat." Fi tilted her head, acknowledging the point, but she didn't offer anything else to the conversation, so Colin cast about for a solution. "What can we do so that you trust your teammates? Do you need more simulation time? More field time?"

Fi sighed, thinking, then shrugged. "Yes? Both? We do need more training, but mostly I think we just need time. I mean, think about it. When I first got here, we weren't really a team. It was Jason and I versus the Brockton Bay Wards, and yeah, that was mostly my fault but that's how it was. We're a new team now, with a new leader and new members. We need time to synergize. Brockton Bay is pretty quiet at the moment, and there won't be any more Endbringer fights, so we just need to take a breather and learn to be a team."

Colin nodded. That had been his assessment in general, as he watched the Wards throughout the afternoon. When they'd pitted the Wards against "everyone else" the team had held their own, and within five or six minutes of fighting had started to work together more and more effectively, ending the round at the nine minute mark with a decisive victory. He could only hope that time would help Fi, as well as their combat readiness.

"What about therapy?" Colin asked, braced for the expected answer.

As she always did, Fi scoffed. "Very funny." She immediately turned away, displeased, but Colin just waited. After a moment, she looked back at him. "You're serious?"

"Yes."

"You know why that's a terrible idea," she stated slowly, as though waiting for him to crack a grin and admit he was joking. Colin carefully didn't move a single muscle in his face. "I know secrets. World ending secrets. I can't be honest with a therapist. What would a PRT employee have done if I'd told them that I was stressed out to be debriefed by Legend, who was most likely involved with my kidnapping and torture? They'd either decide I was delusional, lashing out, or they'd report it and who knows what would have happened then? That's not the biggest secret I've got. I can't talk to someone, because I can't trust anyone."

Colin nodded reasonably, acknowledging her argument. When he didn't back down, however, Fi leaned back in her chair and studied him. After a moment of silence, Colin finally spoke. "You're right. You have to be able to trust your therapist. That's why I've cleared it with the Triumvirate, and with Director Costa-Brown herself, that if you agree to therapy, whoever you talk to will sign a binder worth of paper.

"They will be bound to absolute secrecy, even if you admit to crimes past or future. They won't have the normal caveats about breaking confidentiality to protect yourself or others. They won't be able to be subpoenaed in a court of law. They won't be under any obligation to talk to the PRT, and if they attempt to do so they will be sued for malpractice."

He couldn't see her eyes behind the visor, but the rest of her face showed her surprise and interest.

"That's not legal," she finally ventured in answer to his assurances.

"This isn't a normal situation. Technically speaking, your therapist won't be your doctor. They will just be someone bound to absolute secrecy who happens to have the necessary training to help you deal with all the things you're dealing with."

She chewed on her lip, thinking over the offer. In Colin's opinion, it was the one most important part of the evening. He knew he was going to screw up as a father, or guardian, or whatever he was now. He wasn't the right person to help her.

But if he could get her to someone who could help, then that would be good enough. He could be one of a team of people who were helping her.

"Alright, I'll do it," she said eventually. "With caveats. We'll message each other, and Dragon will encrypt and protect the signal without listening in. I want her legal assurances too, that neither she nor anyone else will read what we're writing.

"But I'm not going to talk to someone and have to read what they're saying. I want us to be on equal footing. So we find a therapist who's fluent in sign language, and I mean _fluent_ , or I just chat with the therapist in a closed chat room or whatever to make it secure."

"That's reasonable," Colin assured her. After an awkward moment when he failed to find a better way to ask the question, he tacked on, "You're fluent in ASL?"

Fi nodded, and then her hands flew as she answered him back, too fast for him to pick out motions or associate motions with words. "I learned just after I triggered. The first time I was deaf the cost lasted for nearly four months, and I met some Deaf people right off. They were horrified that I didn't already sign. There was no good excuse not to accept their offers, so I stayed with them for those first few months. I learned ASL, and I learned about Deaf culture. It's an amazing world. Amazing people. It's my world now, my people, for the rest of my life. I am Deaf."

She said the last statement with something like pride. Colin immediately resolved to find a way to build a program that could read and translate ASL, and then realized that he was thinking like a tinker.

"Should I learn ASL?" he asked hesitantly.

Fi shrugged, her expression fading from proud to guarded. "It isn't necessary. I have the visor. I read lips. And in two years, I'll be a legal adult."

Cautiously, afraid of offending her, he told her, "That's not what I asked. Should I learn ASL?"

"I'd appreciate it," Fi admitted timidly, looking thirteen again.

Colin nodded, resolute. "Alright then."

She smiled, then stood up and crossed the space between them quickly, impulsively. At the last minute, just as Colin realized that she was about to hug him, she stopped, pulling back awkwardly as though she too recognized what she'd been about to do.

Carefully, Colin stood up and took a hesitant step forward. The hug was clumsy, and lasted barely a second, but as they both let go and stepped back Fi was laughing silently. When Colin started laughing too, acknowledging the weirdness of the moment, she broke out into honest, slightly too-loud, giggles.

It wasn't perfection, but it was pretty good progress for their first night as… well… whatever they were.


	35. Headaches

**Author's Note:** My apologies for the formatting in this chapter. It may be hard to read on mobile devices. Lisa's power doesn't mesh well with FFN formatting restrictions.

 **Chapter 35: Headaches**

 **March 29, 2011**

Lisa glanced around the tiny boutique more out of habit than anything else. Given her current circumstances there was more risk than gain in scamming tourists, but it was good to stay in practice.

Two girls working behind the counter, chatting. It didn't take her power to know they were discussing boys (or possibly girls - crushes, anyways) because both were blushing. A single woman who was pretending to be thirty was browsing through jeans intended to be worn by women who were twenty.

 _Make-up application, brand choice: real age is forty-two years old.  
_ _Diamond ring, platinum band: bought within the last two years. Not a wedding ring.  
_ _Ring finger very thin, thin in places different than the current ring: she had previously had a wedding ring, and was now wearing a different one.  
_ _Wearing imitation wedding ring: husband cheated, and then divorced her._

Lisa cut her power down as much as possible, trying to look over the woman with her own eyes, but it was impossible. She was able to notice details such as the leather jacket that was at least two years out of style, the heels that were barely scuffed, and the corner of the flyer for a free concert peeking out of the purse made of genuine leather, but it was as much her power as it was her.

This woman had certainly fallen on hard times recently, and was pretending she hadn't. With this new information, Lisa opened her gift up again, letting the power off the proverbial leash.

 _Expensive tastes: ex-husband bought gifts when he was feeling guilty.  
_ _Keeping up appearances: hoping to find another rich man who would take care of her._

Well, that she could have probably guessed from human nature, if her power would let her think alone. At least there was no trace of a headache yet.

Shaking her head, Lisa glanced back towards the rack of skirts she was flipping through before the store girls got suspicious. She was trying to make more of her own observations, drawing minor conclusions, before bringing her full power to bear. She thought that it made the headaches a little less, but it wasn't simple or even quantifiable. Casual people watching, like today, was good practice though.

The only other people in the boutique were two teenage girls who were hanging out only in the clearance section, and neatly drawing all of the limited attention that the clerks could spare from their gossip.

The tall one with curly hair held up a simple, black sweater, and her friend crinkled her forehead, before shooting the sweater down. "We found that cute black top at the Market yesterday. Do they have it in green?"

Tall and Curly placed the sweater back on the clearance rack and flipped unenthusiastically to a green halter top.

 _Unenthusiastic shopper: doing this for her friend, thinks her friend needs this, doesn't value her own opinions, is depressed.  
_ _Listens to her friend's judgement: younger of the two, wants to be a help._

Blond and Athletic watched her friend's progress through the clearance items. An exceptionally loud giggle from the counter drew the eyes of Tall and Curly, and Blond and Athletic followed her friend's gaze, then she glanced back at the rack, holding up a dark green top that she'd been looking at for the past few minutes.

 _Didn't glance up herself: Deaf.  
_ _Deaf but speaks without a noticeable accent: was hearing until recently.  
_ _Casual about following line-of-sight and exposing her back: has been Deaf for quite some time._

Lisa quickly dropped her gaze back to the clothes in front of her and took a deep breath, cutting her power down to a trickle. No thinker headache.

It wasn't unusual for her power to be wrong, or to contradict itself, but to do so right now? Typically, that happened more often when she was pushing for obscure answers, or trying to gather information quickly, or as new data became available. Two back-to-back answers, completely opposed to each other, based on the same amount of information, without Lisa overextending her power was… unusual. Very unusual. She didn't like what it implied. Cautiously, she glanced back to the two teens and observed Blond and Deaf with her own senses, keeping as tight a hold on her power as possible.

Blond and Deaf was clearly shopping for her friend, based on the sizes she was selecting, and she was doing a decent job of finding cuts that would work for the tall, slender girl. She was dressed comfortably, but not so casually that she stood out, in Contract-style jeans and a white top. She was short but strong. She was wearing no jewelry or accessories of any kind. Very soft makeup.

 _Stance, movement, posture: uncomfortable in body, recent growth spurt.  
_ _Recent growth spurt: mid teens.  
_ _Word choice, confidence, makeup: early twenties.  
_ _Casual management of friend, mentorship, fondness in smile: late twenties._

Age was usually a pretty simple deduction, especially for people under the age of thirty where her power could pick up biological information as well as social behaviors. Widely divergent answers were… troubling. Lisa switched her gaze over to Tall and Curly.

 _Posture, clothes choice: fifteen years old, give or take a year._

Okay, so the taller girl was easy to read, and her power was only affected by the short blond. What could interfere with her power? Another cape? As soon as she wondered it, Lisa tried to seize on her power, but it was too late.

 _Blond cape, 5 feet 3 inches, teenager to young adult, Contract-style clothes: Contract.  
_ _Contract rumored to be resistant to thinkers: Contract is resistant to thinkers._

Lisa froze in brief panic, then forced herself to keep flipping shirts. She moved around the rack until her back was facing the rest of the boutique and shut her eyes. She monitored her breathing.

Contract. She was standing just feet away from a hero who had, just ten days before, wiped out the Endbringers. She was standing next to the cape who killed the Endbringers and Lisa had _seen her face_. She knew her secret identity. Crap. Okay. Deep breath. Maybe this was no big deal. It wasn't like there was any way for Contract to know that she'd been spotted in her civilian identity while hanging out with her civilian friend. Again, her power slipped free, evaluating that assumption.

 _Tall and Curly wants approval from Contract, but doesn't know which clothes to suggest to get it: recent friendship following isolation.  
_ _Recent friendship; Contract moved to Brockton Bay recently; Contract out and about with Tall and Curly: Tall and Curly is also a cape._

Crap. Double crap. Now she had the identity of two Wards, because she didn't need her power to tell her that the tall cape with dark, curly hair and self-confidence issues was the recently triggered Beetle.

Lisa forced herself to continue breathing evenly as she finally managed to cut off the information stream from her power. She had to approach the situation logically. She had options. She could go home, and pretend she knew nothing.

 _Contract destroyed Endbringers: Protectorate using thinkers and precogs to search for threats to Contract.  
_ _Coil would love to control Contract; my continued association with Coil might allow him to discover this information: Precogs might be able to pick up on that._

Well, that was out. Staying silent would do her no good, and might bring the government down on her head. Lisa could go to Coil, and sell him the information. This time, she purposefully turned her power onto the problem. She could feel a headache beginning to form, and she knew it was due in part to the way she was struggling against her power.

 _Coil has already exhibited distain for you, and a willingness to hurt you: Coil wants to control you.  
_ _Coil wants to control: will use secret identity to blackmail you. Highly unlikely to offer any protection or benefit for the information.  
_ _Coil wants to control you: might want to control Contract.  
_ _Protectorate would see Coil as a threat: Protectorate thinkers could trace information source to you.  
_ _Precogs might miss Coil as a threat; Coil has people in the PRT: might already have the secret identity, would still be willing to use it as blackmail to control you._

So there was nothing to gain and possibly everything to lose from volunteering the information to Coil. That was almost a relief, because it left her only one option. She had to break free of Coil. But how? She'd already been trying to do that, since the day he put a gun to her head, and while this increased the urgency of the situation it didn't change the basic facts.

New Wave was closed to her. They would turn her in for being a villain, and even if they dealt with Coil, Lisa's power had suggested that they wouldn't do it fast enough to keep his people from killing her.

She couldn't go to the Protectorate or the PRT for fear of not knowing exactly who she could trust. And there was the same issue of being vulnerable if she was arrested. Lisa had tried to work out what she might be able to say that would force the Protectorate to take Coil seriously without revealing that she was a cape, but hadn't been successful thus far.

She might be able to go to the Wards, specifically Beetle or Contract. She could beg for their help, or in the worst case scenario try to blackmail them with the knowledge of their real faces. The second was dangerous: you do not blackmail capes that swat Endbringers. But the first… she might be able to pull it off. It would be incredibly risky, but if she could approach one of the Wards in their civilian identity, and get her story believed somehow, and also convince them that Coil had people in the PRT, they might be able to do something without alerting his moles.

More importantly, they might be willing to do it outside of the regulations that would tip Coil off, since they were both new Wards.

The problem then became how to approach the Wards under Coil's nose. Probability manipulation, if that was his power as she suspected, was incredibly powerful. But his power might have a limitation she could use. Coil frequently called her just before a job, to give the red or green light. He also called with last-minute advice or changes. Whatever the exact mechanics of his probability manipulation, it was seemed to be limited to immediate action.

So the first key was to make it away from here safely. She wasn't going to be a threat to Contract, so the Protectorate shouldn't see her. And she wasn't going to do anything to hurt Coil for at least forty-eight hours, to try to keep him in the dark.

With this resolution set firmly in her mind, Lisa put one foot in front of the other and walked out of the boutique, down the street, and got on the first city bus she saw. She didn't go back to the Undersiders' base. Instead, she ended up riding the bus to the end of the line, near one of Brockton Bay's libraries. She went inside, then wandered into the historical fiction section and sat down against the books, out of sight of anyone who might be looking.

Lisa had seen Contract. She'd stood within reaching distance from her. She'd used her power, however successfully or unsuccessfully, on her. Lisa was a villain, but she was still breathing. After a moment to let all of that sink in, she leaned her head back against the shelving and just thought.

When Contract had initially come out to Brockton Bay, Lisa hadn't been able to figure out many details as to why. Her two TV interviews the day of the Simurgh's last attack hadn't been much help either. At the time, Lisa had assumed that the weird answers she'd gotten from pushing her power had been a result of trying too hard, the interference from second hand observation rather than personal contact, and overuse of her power.

Now, she knew that some of the problems likely stemmed from Contract herself, and her thinker resistance. Still, were there things she could infer about Contract based on how the PRT and Protectorate were treating her?

 _Contract not under guard or surveillance: trusted, capable of self-defense._

Well, that much was obvious. A cape who ate Endbringers was capable of self-defense. Thanks thinker power, never would have guessed that otherwise! Lisa sighed, and laid her head in her hands.

If she could make it through the next forty-eight hours without Coil or a PRT hit squad somehow figuring out what she knew, she was probably safe. That meant that she'd have to avoid all contact with Coil, especially personal contact. He always seemed to know too much when they spoke face to face.

In two days, she could try to figure out if there was anything knowable about Contract, to help with her eventual first contact. Barring that, she could try to gather information on Beetle and the other Wards, to figure out the best approach. Then, if it still seemed like a good idea, she could decide if she wanted to actually try to get to Contract to help her against Coil, or if it was better to just try to do a runner.

* * *

 **April 4, 2011**

Lisa soon discovered that some things were easier said than done. Preventing herself from doing any further _thinking_ about Contract was one of those things. She spent most of Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday giving herself a thinker headache investigating the Empire just so that she wouldn't try to investigate anything that could get her smote by whoever or whatever might be watching out for the Endbringers' killer.

When she finally did let herself look into the Wards, it was almost too easy at first. Hacking into Arcadia for attendance records, correlating absences, and double-checking social media quickly gave her the civilian identities of Clockblocker, Aegis, Triumph, Gallant, and Kid Win. Vista was probably too young to be in high school. Tellingly, however, there was no trace of Contract, Intrepid or Beetle in the Arcadia system or in the social media accounts of the other Wards. Likewise, Shadow Stalker was conspicuous by her absence.

Since Contract and Intrepid had shown up on the Winslow campus twice, she turned her attention there next. In this, the nature of the school worked against her. There were far more students with absences, and kids frequently transferred in and out of the school, giving a wide range of possible suspects.

Shadow Stalker was actually the first Ward she pinned down at Winslow, for the simple fact that she had the longest history as a Ward to track against. Interestingly, Sophia Hess had not been withdrawn from school due to a car accident. She'd been arrested. Specifically, she'd been arrested for criminal harassment of one Taylor Herbert, along with other charges that would require hacking through an impressive level of confidentiality, indicating that it probably related to her cape identity.

It was in this way that Lisa learned that Taylor Herbert was the girl that Contract had been in the store with. She had no social media presence, however, so that was no help in tracking down Contract's civilian name.

It was here that she hit her wall. Contract had come to Brockton Bay sometime in February, but a large number of kids had started at Winslow in that time frame. Of the short, blond girls that had transferred to Winslow, three had joined Winslow's new computer-based program, which might or might not an attempt to disguise cape presence in the school. There were a likewise large number of suspects for Intrepid, and too few absences to compare to. And all that assumed that Contract and Intrepid were even at Winslow, rather than being home-schooled or being on-call from another nearby campus.

In frustration, Lisa went back to tracking Taylor Hebert and hit another dead end. Taylor had been viciously harassed in life and online, so in response she'd had practically no online presence. Lisa was able to guess her PHO account name after a judicious use of her power.

Contract had mentioned the ferry by name as a project that needed fixing in Brockton Bay. Since there was no reason to believe Contract was a local, so she had to have heard from the ferry from somewhere. Taylor's dad worked for the Dockworker's Union and was infamous in city council circles for harping endlessly on ferry revival projects. If the ferry was important enough that Taylor mentioned it to new-to-town friends within the first month, it was important enough to her family that she might identify with it. There were a very small number of Ferry related PHO names, and only one posting in Brockton Bay boards.

Even with this lead, however, Lisa found depressingly little. Just about the only thing of interest was that she was able to confirm, after reading Ferry Girl's responses to a post about Beetle, was that Taylor was definitely the newest Ward.

After that, there was nothing. She spent all of Friday and Saturday digging deeper into the Wards. She deduced hobbies, team dynamics, and sussed out that both Triumph and Aegis had been graduated before they were technically eighteen due to some sort of tension with Contract. But she wasn't able to find anything else about Contract, or about Intrepid.

On Sunday, she finally made the decision to try to get in contact with Taylor, and see if she could get a feel for what Taylor would do if she revealed her situation. She chose Taylor for several reasons. As a new Ward, she was more likely to be willing to bend the rules, or just not know them. As a recent victim of bullying, she was more likely to be swayed by sympathy. And since Contract had been at Winslow and mentioned the ferry, it seemed likely that Taylor might be closer to her than other Wards.

Lisa had thought that making that decision, choosing to put her life in the hands of another teenager, was the hard part. Not so. On Sunday afternoon, when Lisa resolved to track Taylor down, she was nowhere to be found. She wasn't at home, or on the Boardwalk, or in the Marketplace. Lisa finally concluded she must be at the Ward's base and gave up, determining to talk to her after school on Monday instead.

So now Lisa was riding another city bus on Monday afternoon, waiting for the bus to pass by Winslow. If Taylor was headed to the Wards' base again today, this would be the bus she'd get on. If she was headed home, then Lisa would have to get off the bus in two stops and sprint nearly a mile and a half to try to catch the bus which was headed in the direction of Taylor's house. Such an entrance was much less nonchalant than already being on the right bus, so Lisa was hoping that Taylor headed to the Wards again today.

Sure enough, Taylor got on the bus with six other students headed from Winslow into downtown. She swiped her student ID card, then took the seat in front of Lisa. The boy directly behind her swiped his card and followed Taylor back, sitting in the empty seat across the aisle. Even though they weren't talking to each other, the two clearly knew each other.

 _Not talking, Taylor doesn't have many friends; not hiding association; are hiding that they're riding together: headed to the same destination, the Wards' base.  
_ _Disguising the same destination; downplaying association during transit between civilian and cape areas: the boy is Intrepid._

Well damn. The one Ward she didn't know much about, except what she could glean from the online information from his time in Houston. He was a regular stand up hero, at least in front of the media which Lisa trusted about as far as she could throw the entire PRT PR department. That didn't mean that he was necessarily bad, of course, but it didn't mean he was a decent person either. Shadow Stalker had taught her to be wary, though nothing in his immediate posture pinged her power as aggressive.

So it came down to this. Did she still want to try to approach Taylor with another Ward sitting right there? Lisa had prepared a number of openings for Taylor, everything from pretending to recognize her from her very short lived anti-bullying campaign to pretending they'd known each other as kids at a summer camp, and Taylor had simply forgotten. None of those openings worked quite as well with an eavesdropper.

Lisa waffled, but there was no escaping the facts. There was no reward without risk. As much as she hated the unknown, she had to do something. The longer she waited, the harder it would be to avoid Coil. She had no choice.

Lisa took a deep breath, then leaned forward casually and tapped Taylor on the shoulder. The other girl jumped and looked up from the bus window in surprise.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" Lisa asked in as friendly a tone as she could manage. "You look familiar."

Taylor shrugged, glanced at Intrepid, then remembered that they were supposed to be disassociating from each other and looked back at Lisa. "Uh, I don't think so?"

Lisa hmmed, considering Taylor carefully.

 _Body language, word choice: caution that this is a bullying trick.  
_ _Question, not statement, tone: hoping this is not a trick. Would like a non-Ward friend._

Lisa relaxed just marginally. It wasn't perfect, but it was a lot better than it might have been. In her persona as bubbly-camp-girl, Lisa nodded eagerly. "Oh, did you go to a summer camp, either two or three years ago?" Lisa knew from Taylor's extremely limited online presence that this was one of the last social things she did, before the bullying that turned her life upside down in high school had started. She had gone alone, without friends or anyone else from Brockton Bay, so there was no one to contradict the story that Lisa was going to weave out of the photos she'd found on Taylor's long-neglected social media page.

"I did. Lakeside Summers. You were there?"

 _Body language, sitting forward: Taylor believes the hook.  
_ _Sitting forward, body language: positive association with summer camp._

Using summer camp had been a bit of a gamble. All the pictures were positive, and Taylor had chosen to post them. That indicated the camp had been good, and that's what Lisa was banking on. Shortly after the camp, however, when Taylor entered high school, her grades had started dropping. Whatever bullying or trauma had been following her for the past eighteen months had luckily started after camp, not during it.

"I was. How crazy that we run into each other again!" Lisa draped an elbow over the seat, leaning so far forward she was nearly between Taylor and Intrepid, who was pretending he wasn't listening in. "How long have you been in Brockton Bay?"

Taylor shrugged, drawing in a little, less eager to talk about her current life. With the Wards and the bullying, there wasn't much that she could talk about that she would want to discuss. The motion was too familiar, it struck home with Lisa and she remembered one of her first observations of Taylor had been "depressed." Fortunately, Taylor muttered, "I've always lived here."

Lisa yanked herself out of her thoughts, focusing desperately on the present. "Crazy," she repeated while she remembered the backstory she'd decided on. "I moved here last year! I was in Winslow for a bit, but then I talked my parents into letting me get a GED. School sucks."

Lisa had carefully mixed lies and truth into her new backstory, both to make it easier to live and to limit the damage if and when she had to reveal the truth. Part of her wanted to abandon ship, shift gears, and give Taylor the truth. If it hadn't been her life on the line, she might have wavered.

Taylor nodded, but didn't take the opening the way Lisa had hoped she would. Instead, Lisa bubbled on in her current persona. "So hey, I'm headed down to the library to look into some classes for next semester. Where're you going?"

"The, ah, Boardwalk," Taylor answered, eyes darting up to the left in a way that made it obvious she was lying, even if Lisa hadn't already known she was headed to the Wards' base.

"We should get together some time. What are you doing tonight?" Lisa asked, trying to stay casual, even though Taylor was contributing basically nothing to the conversation.

"I'm not sure," Taylor hedged, leaning back a little.

 _Withdrawal, tone: distrusts sudden offer of friendship; has suffered betrayals in the past._

Lisa's heart clenched. Shit. Just what had Sophia and her crones done to this girl?

Lisa forced herself not to focus on that for the moment. If all went according to plan and Taylor and she became friends, Lisa could and would try to help her then. Right now, she had to focus on rescuing this initial encounter. She'd pushed too hard, too fast, and now Taylor was in retreat. It was past time to back off, which Lisa did by leaning back a little, giving Taylor more space. "Oh, okay," Lisa offered as casually as she could, disguising both her sympathy and her self-censure. "I guess I'll just give you my cell number, and you can call at a better time, yeah?"

Taylor nodded mutely, so Lisa leaned back and pulled a small notebook out of her purse. She scribbled her name and a burner phone number on the paper and tore it out for Taylor, who barely leaned forward far enough to take it.

"I'm Lisa, by the way," Lisa said cautiously, faking embarrassment. "I think I forgot to mention that."

Taylor hesitated, but after a moment she nodded and just mumbled, "Taylor," in answer. Lisa sat back awkwardly, knowing there was still at least twenty minutes until the bus passed the library and she could get off.

After a moment she got out her phone and pretended to text, instead writing down everything she could observe about Taylor and Intrepid from behind. She kept her power as low as possible, wanting to save it in case she needed to talk to Taylor again before the bus ride ended, but she noted everything she could for later use.

Taylor spent about ten minutes alternating between pretending to stare out the window, discreetly glancing over at Intrepid, and glancing less discreetly back at Lisa, while Lisa pretended not to notice. Inside, she was gleeful. Interest was good, it was better than Taylor writing her off completely.

At one point, Intrepid managed to catch and hold Taylor's gaze.

 _Taylor recovering from trauma; Intrepid wants her to try to make new friends.  
_ _Intrepid helping Taylor: not a total jerk; PR may be more true than usual.  
_ _Intrepid from Texas, less stressful area than Brockton Bay: Intrepid more trusting and open than most local capes._

Well, thank you, Intrepid. Reluctantly, Taylor twisted in her seat to face Lisa, who cheerfully looked up from her phone, waiting for her to speak. "So, um, listen, today's not great, but I could meet you somewhere tomorrow?"

As much as Lisa wanted to just wrap this poor girl in a hug, that was not practical at any level. So instead, Lisa just nodded happily, recovering her earlier fake-chipperness. "Sure thing. I don't have plans. Where do you want to meet up?" Lisa hoped that by putting the planning back in Taylor's hands, she'd feel safer and not suspect a trap.

Taylor shrugged, but she did offer, "Uh, Fugly Bob's, I guess?" After a moment, she backtracked, "Or we could meet downtown somewhere, if that works better for you."

"Nah," Lisa answered easily. "Fugly Bob's is good. Right after school good for you? Or do you need some time?"

"No, that'll work." Taylor glanced down at her hands, obviously at a loss for further conversation.

Lisa suppressed a sigh, but carried the conversation forward anyway. "Hey, do you watch the news? Winslow's raised, like, three million dollars since the Simurgh got zapped."

Taylor smiled, and sat up a little, obviously pleased with a topic that she could safely contribute to. "I heard the Capeless funds total was close to a hundred million dollars now, plus Contract's promise to match everything that's been donated out of the Endbringer rewards. I mean, the funding has severely dropped off since the first couple of days, but not completely."

Lisa nodded eagerly. "I can't believe how much people are giving." She'd done her part for the movement by using her thinker power to come up with a good logo, and then hacking the websites to make them more aesthetically pleasing. She'd chosen a black and gold color scheme, and a circular logo with a human fist holding a quill aloft in the foreground. In the background was a basic domino mask, such that the human arm and hand subtly created a slash through the mask.

The logo had taken off with a bang, and was now being produced in bumper stickers, shirts, bags, and other paraphernalia, all with some portion of the profits going to the funds. It had been a good prank, making the people who were actually in charge of that sort of thing panic while the public ate it up, and it hadn't taken Lisa more than a couple of hours. Sometimes, just messing with people was its own reward.

Taylor leaned forward, engaging further in the conversation. "My dad says there's plenty of money for the ferry now too."

"I wonder where Contract heard about that," Lisa mused aloud. "The ferry is hardly Brockton Bay's only problem."

Taylor blushed slightly and shrugged, but she didn't let it trip her up for long. "Maybe she lives in the Docks."

"Well, she does go to Winslow, so that would make sense."

Taylor shook her head. "That's just rumors. We don't know for sure where Contract goes."

Lisa's first instinct was to tease Taylor, asking if she'd tried to suss out Contract's identity or if she was watching for new students with blonde hair, but she held off at the last moment. If Taylor was still getting used to her new identity, then she would be sensitive about that issue. Lisa hesitated long enough for Taylor to continue.

"I guess it would be cool to go to school with her, but she's probably homeschooled or something. If she was at Winslow, I think people would know."

Lisa shrugged, then reached up to pull the cord to ask for a stop as the bus approached the place she needed to get off if she wanted to maintain her library charade. "I guess. I still think you're wrong. She's at Winslow. I mean, she popped up there twice. And the interview totally sounds personal," Lisa argued, echoing the most common PHO speculations. As far as Lisa and her Contract-affected power could guess, Contract probably had been at Winslow at some point, although she might not be attending there now.

The bus coasted to a stop, and Lisa waved to Taylor as she disembarked. As the bus pulled away, she stood and watching it go, letting herself feel all the emotions she'd had to hide from Taylor. The sympathy and protective instinct that Taylor provoked, and the echo of grief that underpinned it. The worry that this wasn't enough, and she'd get caught by Coil before she was able to get Taylor to believe her.

After several deep breathes, Lisa forced herself to pull out of the emotional mire and walk towards the library. According to plan or not, it could have been a worse first encounter.

* * *

 **April 5, 2011**

Lisa made sure to get to Fugly Bob's a little before the agreed-on time, and snagged a table with a good view of the restaurant. She then sat in the opposite side of the booth, leaving the prime seat open for Taylor. She wanted to do everything possible to put the other cape at ease, both for her own sake and for the sake of her plan.

Again, Lisa suppressed the guilt that had been nagging at her. If what she'd figured out about Taylor was correct, and she really did have no friends outside the Wards, then Lisa's deception might eventually destroy her. She was reaching out, tentatively, and making a new friend. For that friend to be a villain? Well, it wouldn't do anything good for her psyche.

On the other hand, Lisa was trapped. She had to get out from under Coil, and she had to do it fast. Taylor was still her best shot at survival.

Taylor entered just when Lisa expected her to, having ridden a city bus from Winslow. She was again accompanied by Intrepid, but this time they weren't pretending not to know each other, since they were both firmly in their civilian identities. The two teens ordered, and then awkwardly waited around while they tried to spot Lisa. Obligingly, Lisa waved to get their attention and they both trooped over with their food in hand.

"Hey Lisa. This is Jason," Taylor introduced, sliding into the booth. She barely gave them long enough to shake hands before she continued. "You don't mind if he joins us, do you? We've got a project to work on later."

 _Taylor brought a friend: wanted backup; still concerned about a prank or other bullying.  
_ _Jason's posture: trust; doesn't think this is a set-up.  
_ _Jason's facial expression: compassion; doesn't mind spending time with Taylor to help her feel safer._

"Not at all, the more the merrier!" Lisa enthused, pretending she didn't recognise Jason from the bus ride yesterday. Using the glimpse she'd gotten of his face, she'd been able to figure out that Intrepid was Jason Wilson, recently moved to Brockton Bay due to his dad's job, just as he claimed. All in all, everything about him proclaimed him to be a stand-up dude and all-around good guy. It was almost enough to rot Lisa's teeth off. The perfect teen, from a perfect family, who got to grow up in Texas and help kill Endbringers. Still, Lisa tried to remember that it was better than having someone like Sophia involved in this little charade of hers.

"It's nice to meet you," Jason drawled with a heavy Texas accent. Lisa had to suppress actual giggles at the stereotype.

"I don't recognise your accent. Did you just move here?"

"From Texas," Jason answered honestly. "My dad's work transferred him. Taylor said you're new to the area too?"

"I've been here about eight months now," Lisa admitted. "It's different than the rest of the East Coast."

"Certainly more gangs than you can shake a stick at," Jason agreed. Lisa nodded, but glanced back at Taylor as she shifted the conversation.

"So how was school today?"

Taylor shrugged. "Fine I guess. It's school." Taylor glanced down to her food and made a show of finding the perfect fry to dip in ketchup and eat.

"Taylor's been dealing with some bullying," Jason volunteered. "We had to get two teachers involved today."

"That's terrible!" Lisa exclaimed immediately. "People can be so cruel. At least you're going to the authorities though. No one should be able to get away with that shit."

It was a pretty venomous response for a stranger, but Lisa wanted to make herself an immediately sympathetic figure. It helped that she had some idea of what was encapsulated in the euphemism "bullying." Lisa was kinda surprised that the tormentors hadn't come down with lice or crabs. It'd be the least that they deserved.

"That's what I said," Jason threw in authoritatively, and it occurred to Lisa that going to the staff might not have been Taylor's idea. A quick check with her power confirmed it: Jason had involved the teachers without Taylor's permission, and Taylor hadn't decided how she felt about it yet.

Mostly, Taylor didn't actually mind that Jason had broken teenage social code and reported the incident, although peer pressure still made her feel like she ought to have handled the situation differently. She was more pissed that the teachers were willing to help now, after she became a Ward, but hadn't helped when… hello, when Sophia Hess aka Shadow Stalker had… done something… and caused Taylor to trigger?

Well, there was a can of worms Lisa forced herself to ignore rather than open.

"So what have you been doing since we saw each other? Besides making the world safer from bullies?" Lisa asked, casual.

Taylor shrugged, not having much in her life she could use as an honest answer. "School, mostly," Taylor finally said, "no real clubs, but I've got a few friends I hang out with. What about you?"

Lisa immediately broke eye contact, exaggerating the social cues that indicated discomfort. "Oh, well, I told you I got a GED rather than put up with school…" Lisa trailed off, shifted uncomfortably, and then lied as obviously as possible, "I got a, ah, job. So mostly I just, ah, do what I'm told."

As she'd hoped, both Taylor and Jason picked up on her cues and the two shared a glance. Taylor straightened up a little, and Lisa turned her power all the way up, focusing on what the other girl was thinking.

 _Posture, decreased heart rate: calm under fire.  
_ _Recent trauma, recent trigger: helps others in order to hold herself together; more comfortable now that there might be a chance to be needed.  
_ _Automatic transition: has been using this coping mechanism frequently.  
_ _Frequent care for others, limited social circle: family member or Ward needs her.  
_ _Not her father, it's a new habit: a Ward.  
_ _Not one of the Brockton Bay's originals, they'd turn to each other: one of the new Wards.  
_ _Not Intrepid, Jason, he's a protector, put together, doesn't need the help; Contract.  
_ _Helping Contract as coping mechanism: highly likely she will help you.  
_ _Leaning forward, hands clasped together: would be offering a hug if we were next to each other._

Lisa shut the deductions off in order to focus on the deception she was laying out but filed the new information away for later use. It was important to know that Taylor was not holding herself together nearly as well as others thought she was, and it indicated that Contract might be in a pretty bad way herself, if she was accepting help from a victim who was barely okay.

Lisa picked at the cuticle on her left middle finger, a practiced tell that she used whenever she needed one. It was Taylor who took charge of the conversation, not Jason. Lisa wondered if Jason was letting Taylor speak because he knew this was her coping mechanism, or if he didn't realise how bad-off his teammate was. Either was possible. He would want to help Taylor as well as he knew how, but he was naive enough that he might not recognise what she was going through. The joys of growing up not-in-Brockton-Bay.

Lisa resisted the temptation to find out with her power, in case she got pulled down another rabbit hole while she needed to look vulnerable.

"Lisa, is everything okay?"

Lisa snapped her head up sharply, and gave a nervous little laugh. "Sure. Why wouldn't it be?" She picked at her cuticle more strongly. Even if they didn't recognise it consciously, they'd be subconsciously registering the fidgets in her posture.

The two Wards shared another look. "Do you want to talk alone?" Taylor offered, in a tone that was not at all subtle. Lisa wasn't sure if Taylor was trying and failing, or if she wasn't socially adept enough to know that the question was actually a little awkward. However, since the conversation was still going the way Lisa had hoped it would, she chose to ignore that for now.

She gave a bitter laugh, as well as she could without sounding fake, and quipped, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Lisa followed it up with a big, fake smile.

"You might be surprised," Jason said, in a tone that was privately amused. Taylor never glanced away from Lisa's face, carefully reading and studying Lisa's facade.

"Well in that case I'd have to kill you," she said as though she was trying to brush the subject off, but she let a little of her honest bitterness at Coil color the end of the morbid joke. Taylor's gaze sharpened.

"Lisa…" just the tone was enough to tell Lisa that Taylor was hooked. Taylor was certain something was wrong, and was determined to get to the bottom of things. For a moment, Lisa considered "caving" right then and there, but it would be too easy. People believed secrets more when they had to be pried out of their hiding places.

So instead of telling them everything, as she desperately wanted to, Lisa instead stood up abruptly, saying, "No, I'm sorry. This was a bad idea. We haven't seen each other in what, almost two years? It's stupid. I'll catch you later."

With that, she turned and hurried out of Fugly Bob's, already wondering where the best place would be to run into Taylor "accidentally." She could use the bus again, on the same downtown route, but there was a high chance of Jason being on the same bus, and it would seem more natural for Lisa to open up to a single girl, rather than a two-versus-one guy/girl pair.

"Hey!" a girl said as she pulled Lisa's shoulder around. Lisa opened her mouth to start in on whoever had accosted her, and found herself facing a very determined Taylor Hebert, who had followed her out of Fugly Bob's. Evidently, when Taylor coped by helping people, she really dug her teeth in.

Having secured Lisa's attention, Taylor's face lost a bit of its intensity, and she took a step closer, her voice dropping into a very persuasive coaxing. "Lisa, what's wrong?"

Lisa swallowed heavily. She hadn't expected her ploy to work quite this well. Taylor was genuinely invested and they barely knew each other. Worse, Lisa was dangerously invested as well; Taylor just reminded her too much of her own brother. "Why should you care?" she asked, when she probably should have been starting to feed Taylor tiny details. But Lisa couldn't help it, she had to understand why Taylor was so insistent on helping before she could trust the offered hand.

"Someone cared for me," Taylor said, her voice low and intense, "when she didn't have to. Let me help you."

 _Tone: truth; Taylor wants to help.  
_ _Word choice, she: friend; good friend; Contract.  
_ _Contract helped Taylor: Taylor wants to do the same for someone else._

"You can't," Lisa whispered, still trying to decide if she ought to fold or keep holding out. She wanted to just tell Taylor everything, and then maybe, _maybe_ this nightmare with Coil could end.

"Try me," Taylor challenged, and Lisa could read in the set of her jaw that she was thinking about her position on the Wards and the ability that would give her to help in so many situations where she would have been powerless before.

Jason was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he was out of sight, or perhaps Taylor had told him to stay behind so she'd have a better chance of getting Lisa to talk. Either way, Lisa didn't want to discuss this out in the open. She knew she wouldn't be able to get it all out, nevermind the actual security risks. Lisa glanced up and down the street, spotting a bus stop a little ways away.

"Can we get on a bus? Any bus?" Lisa asked, and Taylor's eyes shifted a little, hardened, as she inferred both that Lisa was ready to talk, and that whatever she had to say was too serious to say in the general public. Good. Taylor needed to take this seriously.

Taylor nodded, and strode off towards the bus stop. It only took a few minutes for the next bus to come along, and the two girls got on it and headed towards the back, where there were open seats next to each other.

Once the vehicle was in motion, Lisa was out of time to stall. But now that the moment came to actually tell Taylor about Coil and to plead for her help, Lisa found herself tongue-tied. She hadn't been at the mercy of others very often, but she was now, and it felt like sandpaper under her skin.

This whole idea hinged on Taylor believing her, which Lisa knew she could manage. The two girls had a connection, Lisa knew they both felt it, and Taylor probably wouldn't doubt her for a moment.

But the success of this plan also required Taylor to be able to convince her teammates to take action, without alerting the whole PRT and thus alerting Coil's moles. After the _thinking_ she done about Taylor and Contract, Lisa was pretty sure that Taylor would be able to manage that bit. So the question came down to actually taking the risk.

After a long moment Lisa opened her mouth, and slowly, without having to fake her caution and reluctance, she told Taylor about being recruited at the point of a gun. Then she had to tell Taylor she was a thinker, and even though she knew that was coming, it was still hard to put into words. She didn't explain the specifics, and Taylor didn't press.

She didn't tell Taylor anything about her life prior to Brockton Bay, but she did admit that she was here alone, and she'd lied about having parents because she wanted to sound normal.

At that point, Taylor reached out and put an arm around her. For a single, dizzying moment, Lisa considered telling Taylor about Rex. Maybe not everything, but just something. Something real and deep and genuine to try to express what she was feeling, and tie Taylor to her more closely. In the end, though, she thought better of it. She forced herself to get back on track.

Lisa explained that she didn't want to be a villain, and that she was terrified of what Coil was willing to do to control her. She told Taylor everything she knew for sure about Coil, and what most of what she'd guessed. She explained why she'd never gone to the PRT before. Lisa even admitted to Taylor that she was a criminal before Coil, so that she could explain to Taylor how Coil had used her previous crimes and threats of violence to force her to join the Undersiders. She didn't share her cape name. It wouldn't be hard for Taylor to infer, anyways, and Lisa wanted to go on being "Lisa" as long as possible.

By the time everything was all told, they were two stops away from the PRT building, and Lisa had a massive headache from reading Taylor's reactions and finding the right way to tell her the necessary truths.

Taylor had been pretty quiet throughout, asking a few questions but mostly just letting Lisa talk and incidentally forcing Lisa to use her body language to interpret what she was thinking. When the time came to end the tale, it took a moment for Lisa to remember that she wasn't supposed to know Taylor was Beetle. That lie had to be maintained.

"Like I told you," Lisa sighed, "there's nothing you can do to help. I'm trapped." She looked up from her hands and met Taylor's eyes squarely, so that she could see the genuine gratitude that was there. "Thanks for listening though. It… it did help."

Taylor seemed jarred, and Lisa's power helpfully whispered that Taylor had also forgotten for a moment that Lisa didn't know she was a Ward.

"Why don't you go to the Wards, or the Protectorate?" Taylor tacked on the adult team at the last moment. "Coil might have people in the PRT but not on the hero teams, right?"

Lisa shook her head despondently. "They wouldn't believe me. I can hardly believe that _you_ believed me." She gave a dry chuckle. "As soon as I told them who I was, they'd just process me and then what? If Coil didn't get to me, the sorry state of the American court system would."

Taylor nodded reluctantly. Lisa gave her a sad smile, then pulled the cord for a stop. "Thank you for believing me. I know you want to help, but you should probably forget I said anything. I don't want to pull you into this crap. I just thought… I don't know. I guess I wanted a friendship that would be simple. But nothing in my life is simple." Lisa paused, checked with her power that Taylor was still hooked, which she was, and then dropped one last line. "Just lose that phone number I gave you, okay Taylor? I don't want to drag you down."

The bus came to a stop and Lisa stood up. Taylor stood too, catching her attention. "I, I wish I could help."

Lisa smiled sadly a second time. "Me too," she said honestly, then she hurried off the bus and immediately started walking south, away from the PRT base. As the bus pulled away, she glanced over her shoulder and saw Taylor watching her from the bus window.

 _Facial expression; determination: is going to do whatever she can; believes the story._

Lisa didn't smile until the bus had turned the corner and was out of sight. Then she finally allowed her relieved smile to materialize. It was worth the thinker headache, the manipulation of Taylor, and the risk, for the possibility that she might soon be free from Coil.


	36. The Enemy of My Enemy

**Chapter Thirty-Six: The Enemy of My Enemy**

 **April 6, 2011**

Dennis put down the most recent thinkers' report with a sigh. Being team leader was not at all like he'd expected it to be. Of course, a good part of that was because the Endbringers had been destroyed during his first day transitioning into the job.

In the wake of the events which the Wards were still calling "that night," Triumph and Aegis had basically vanished from the team. Technically, they were still on the roster for another month and were just temporarily assigned to supporting the Protectorate for training purposes, but Dennis had known the truth even before Company had laid it out for him.

Contract didn't trust them.

Of course, then Dennis had read the details that only Company could provide, and his blood had run cold. Company hadn't been able to figure out why Contract was suspicious of them, except that he said it seemed to be somehow connected to Contract's resentment of Legend. In the interest of not provoking Legend's precog, Dennis had tried not to speculate on the details of what that might imply.

Although his information was useful, Dennis could sort of understand why Contract neither liked nor trusted Company. She was protecting powerful secrets, secrets which could get herself or others killed, and she didn't like such a powerful thinker poking around in her business. Dennis had even wondered, once, if Company might be working for THE CONSPIRACY, before he'd tried to force himself not to think about that either.

Dennis was _not thinking_ about a lot of things recently, which would be harder if he wasn't so busy with everything else.

The most recent update didn't include any information attributed to Company. It was just a routine follow-up briefing on world events as they currently stood. The public was reacting well to Contract's decision to match the Capeless funds dollar-for-dollar, although in the spirit of preserving the "capeless" part of the Capeless funds movement, she was spreading her donations out throughout various medical research and treatment funds.

Not that Contract really needed the good PR; the general public absolutely adored her. The city of New York had decided to put up a monument in the neighborhood now known as "Ground Zero" and hundreds of artists were offering to do the work for free. The thinkers were supportive of Fi's insistence in regards to that monument.

First, there was to be no depiction of herself. Clockblocker suspected that was due the fact that she didn't see her body and her face as her own, yet, after the changes she'd made to it through her power. The other demand was also pretty reasonable: the dead were to be honored prominently. And if capes were recognized by name, civilians were to be, too.

Though these were reasonable desires, Glenn had thrown a conniption fit over Fi's decision to announce them in her fifth interview, in particular her refusal for recognition. In Dennis' personal opinion, he should have just been pleased that she bothered to inform him of the decision before she actually got in front of the cameras, but he was dead-set on talking her out of her first restriction. He wanted her to embrace her fame.

After letting Fi yell at Glenn for about fifteen minutes and get it out of her system, Dennis had stepped forward in his authority as team leader and calmly told Glenn that he was being overruled. Glenn had promptly appealed to Armsmaster to overturn the decision. Colin had taken one look at Fi, then given one glance to Dennis, and told Glenn no. Dennis had tried and failed not to smirk at that. Glenn had been forced to concede the argument; Fi wasn't a probationary Ward, so technically only her direct supervisors could order her to obey Glenn. Without them backing him up, he could only advise and suggest.

There were exceptions to the public's adoration, of course. There were four whole pages of the thinkers' report dedicated to the conspiracy theories that were growing around Contract. PHO was particularly active, but the analysts were more concerned about people on less public boards. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Contract's power, as described to the media thus far, wasn't capable of the things she had done with it. Though Fi had been asked about her power in every interview following "that day," she'd politely declined to answer. That footage had not been broadcast, of course, but the glaring lack of the question was almost as bad.

Then there was the parts of the report that focused on Contract herself. Her personality. Her mental health. Her past.

Every time he got one of these stupid packets, he almost didn't read those sections. Contract was his teammate. She was grieving. She was smart. She was a little arrogant, but with pretty good reason most of the time. She'd forgiven him for being a total ass and she'd healed his dad, which was a thousand times more than anything Dennis had had any right to ask of her.

What more was there to know?

But, every time, Dennis ended up turning the page anyway. Not reading the information wouldn't mean that the PRT didn't know it. It wouldn't stop the Triumvirate from reading it. Dennis knew that Armsmaster was trying to get the most intrusive objectives of the Contract think tank shut down, but it wasn't easy. If he pushed too hard, they might just keep on as they were but stop including the personal content in the Brockton Bay reports.

Plus, THE CONSPIRACY had managed to kidnap and torture Contract. An invasion of her privacy sucked, but it was hardly the worst thing she'd survived.

Right now, the think tank seemed to be mostly focused on the fact that Contract had obviously been exposed to combat before New York, even though she hadn't been an active cape. Dennis hadn't disclosed his own suspicions: that Contract probably had been active as a cape, just not as Contract. She'd given herself Jedi powers; she'd upgraded Eidolon; chances were that she could have been an entirely different cape before New York.

He'd spent a couple hours on PHO reading about the capes that had died at Ground Zero or who had disappeared at the end of January, but his heart wasn't in it. Whoever Fi had been before New York, she was here now. Dennis didn't understand entirely why she was dead to her family and her past, but she was. Whatever had come before didn't really matter.

And Contract seemed to be coping with that loss, somehow. Dennis couldn't imagine it, but she seemed to be managing okay. Armsmaster had told him (outside of the PRT, when they were alone) that Contract was faking no small part of her "okay"ness but that it wasn't the worst way she could be handling it. Jason insisted that the team let her fake-it-'til-she-made-it if that's what she wanted to do, so long as they were ready for breakdowns when they came. It seemed to be working so far.

Of course, "faking it" seemed to bear a terrifying resemblance to "beat the snot out of sparring partners and equipment." Even that, however, had had benefits. Taylor had proven to be a particularly eager student, followed by Jason, but all of the Wards were slowly improving their close-quarters readiness. At the very least, they were getting better at anticipating Fi specifically. As a Striker, Dennis had the most background in hand-to-hand encounters so he had the best record, pinning Fi about one match in five.

Of course, thinking about Fi's combat preferences always reminded him of the first afternoon she'd come back to the PRT after "that night." Dennis had spent several hours preparing his arguments for her debriefing. Although her track record was impressive, the self-harm she had done and the risks she had taken were less desirable. That conversation had gone much better than he'd feared, and he suspected she'd already had a similar discussion with Armsmaster. Fi had agreed that that level of physical harm was not appropriate, and assured him that she wouldn't let it happen again.

And then she'd taken to spending several hours a day working out physically and with her powers. Not exactly what Dennis had in mind, but better than her risking her life in the field.

Not that there was a lot of pressure on that front. The Wards were being kept off everything except the lightest patrol duties, and there were at least two thinkers dedicated to the strange quiet in their city. Brockton Bay had been eerily silent since "that day;" none of the gangs really wanting to be the first one to poke their head up and risk it getting slapped by "the Ender" of the Endbringers.

Oh, yeah, the Ender. That's what the internet and popular culture were calling her. And hadn't she just been thrilled about that?

(In Dennis' opinion, it was better than either the Killer's Killer or the Re-Starter which had been the other two titles that almost caught on, but even so, "the Ender" sounded weird. Why did the internet need titles anyway? She already had a cape name. Sometimes people were weird.)

Speaking of the devil, Dennis glanced up from where he was sitting in the Ward's office to look through the open door and watch as Fi left the elevator, headed straight for her bunk. At Armsmaster's request, Dennis was logging how often she cat-napped in her bunk. The answer was "not a lot," which was bad because she wasn't getting a lot of sleep at night or anywhere else either.

And she wasn't napping now. After barely a moment, Fi reemerged in full Contract costume, using Armsmaster's visor instead of her leather mask. Dennis suppressed his amusement at the continued fluidity of her costume. Despite Glenn's protests that she needed to establish "an image," Dennis and Armsmaster were in complete agreement that if she wanted to make changes to her costume, she could. It was harmless, and she seemed to find it entertaining. Either that, or she was using it to try to prevent the creation of action figures.

At the moment, that meant that she was in Contract-brand jeans (she'd given up on avoiding those the day before "that night" and now wore nothing else), white running shoes, a white shirt with long, dark-blue sleeves and her visor.

Dennis had a running bet with Chris about the shelf-life of her various costumes, and he was betting that in her next change she'd keep the shoes but change her shirt. When they'd sparred together, he'd noticed she had better traction in her shoes than in her boots, but the shirt seemed to limit her range of motion and he didn't think she'd keep it regardless of the knife-resistant properties of the material.

Missy had overheard the betting and casually offered fifty bucks that Contract was really just looking for a stand-in until Taylor had time to make her a spider-silk shirt, which would be more flexible, knife-proof, perfectly tailored, and even bullet-resistant where armored. There had been a moment of stunned realization, then no one had been willing to match her bet.

Dennis had expedited Beetle's request for dedicated weaving and insect breeding space the next day, guaranteeing she got twice as much room as she'd asked for, over the protests of various PRT employees who didn't want Beetle's bugs anywhere in the building no matter what the safeguards. How he'd missed the advantages of Taylor's spider-silk costume and the reality that she could make them for others he didn't know, but he made sure to correct his oversight as fast as possible and apologize to Taylor the same day.

Dennis shook himself from his thoughts as Fi dropped into the seat opposite him, looking tired. "Good workout?" he asked. If Fi was following her schedule, and wouldn't everyone's life be easier if she did, she should have been coming back from a session with Yamada after spending a couple hours in the gym.

Fi shrugged, which meant she hadn't been in the gym. Well, that explained why Chris had actually gotten his paperwork filed on time this week. Fi had been in his shop, hiding and helping him with his project documentation. Dennis had debriefed Chris the first day she disappeared into his lab, but the tinker wasn't worried.

Fi mostly spent her time handing him tools, double checking the few calculations he did for number transpositions, and just chatting with him or brooding silently. She had a good enough drafting hand to generate drawings based on what he was building, even when she didn't understand the Tinker designs. Technically, a tinker's lab was restricted space and doubly so when the tinker was working, but Dennis wasn't going to push the issue just yet.

"You got a minute?" she asked, and Dennis spread his hands wide, indicating that he wasn't doing anything. If Fi saw or cared about the thinker report still sitting on the desk, she didn't react. "Remember the whole, 'You should have told us about the secret identity thing, even it meant possibly revealing Taylor's secrets?'"

Dennis winced, remembering the team's turbulent beginnings. Had that been less than a month ago? It felt longer. So much had changed since then. "What about it?"

"I think Taylor might be dealing with something similar."

Dennis's interest was piqued, and he leaned forward. "Oh, do tell."

"She's been asking a lot of questions about protocol. Things like, 'If a Ward found out X, what would he or she be obligated to do in response? What sort of procedures would be required?' I think she's gotten into some sort of delicate situation, and she's worried about official paperwork causing problems."

Fi sighed, glancing down, and Dennis mentally sent his sixty-seventh thank you to Armsmaster for making a visor that would translate text to speech. Being able to talk to Contract when she wasn't looking at him was a huge boon, even when he wasn't using it.

"I don't want to put you in a difficult position," Fi continued. "But I was worried if I went to Armsmaster then _he'd_ be in a difficult position, and he might not be as flexible about it. I want us to go talk to Taylor, and then do whatever is best. Not that I _want_ to go rogue or anything, it's just that I don't know the regulations super well. If I recall, though, you've got a little leeway in things like this, as team leader?"

Dennis nodded slowly, understanding Fi's point. As a veteran Ward, he was far more likely to know the necessary procedures to deal with whatever Taylor had uncovered. Also, as a Ward team leader, he had authority to make things confidential or extend procedure deadlines, although most of that had to be cleared with Armsmaster eventually anyway. Still, it was much better than the two girls going off on their own.

"Does Jason know about this?"

"Maybe? I don't know. He and Taylor hang out at Winslow, so depending on what 'this' turns out to be, and where Taylor encountered it, Jason might be exposed or involved. She's the one who's jumpy, though. Not him."

Dennis nodded. "Let me suit up in case we need to respond quickly, then we'll go talk to her."

"Thanks," Fi smiled, and Dennis smiled back at her.

A couple days ago, they'd finally had the chance to sit down and clear the air between them. Fi had apologized for holding herself so aloof from the rest of the team when she first came to Brockton bay, and Dennis had apologized for being a general ass. She'd told him again that she understood, and he admitted to himself and to her that he could see where she was coming from, too. They weren't best friends, but they were more than just colleagues.

"Oh, by the way," he said as they walked towards the bunks, "my mom told me to invite you over for dinner. The doctors have finally finished the last of their tests; Dad's got the official, complete green light, and we're celebrating. We want you there, if you want to be there."

Fi hesitated for a moment, and Dennis wondered if she was missing her own family, or if she was thinking of something else. Finally, she nodded and said, "Sure. Sounds good."

"I'm glad. And… thanks, again."

Fi shoved his shoulder. "You don't have to keep thanking me," she tried to tease. Her blush belied her tone, however, and told Dennis that she did care.

"Sure, sure. But I am grateful," he insisted, and stepped out of swatting range to go change.

* * *

As it so happened, Taylor was coming into the Wards' base as Contract and Clockblocker were going out, and they crossed paths just inside the passageway that led between the garage access and the various hidden entrances of the PRT.

"Oh, hey guys," Taylor greeted, biting her lip and looking between them shiftily. Yeah, Contract was definitely onto something here. Had Taylor been this uncomfortable during the Tuesday briefing? Clockblocker remembered her being quiet, but not this suspicious.

"Hey yourself, Beetle," Clockblocker offered. "I didn't know you were coming in today?"

"I just, ah, wanted to check on my weavers." Clockblocker suppressed a shudder at the thought of the thousands of black widows currently occupying Taylor's (air-tight) workspace. Even knowing the good they could do, and even having been the one to see to the logistics, the idea of that many deadly spiders was not comforting. "Fi, can we talk?" Taylor shifted her weight, doing a poor job of acting casual.

"Sure thing. Actually, Clock and I were hoping to find you. Let's talk in decontamination."

The decontamination rooms were about halfway back towards the PRT base, and they actually weren't a bad location for a discussion like the one he was anticipating. They were secure, protected from everything because the capes inside were usually out of costume and occasionally defenseless. However, because it was an expected maskless zone, with only one entrance and exit, it was not under surveillance. The rooms should also be empty at the moment.

"Oh. Okay." Taylor seemed more disappointed than skittish, so she wasn't suspicious. "What's up, guys?" she asked as Clockblocker led the way into the waiting area which had the only seats, and Contract pulled the door shut behind them.

"We wanted to make sure everything's okay with you," Clockblocker assured her.

Beetle just shrugged. Well, it was better than her lying.

"You may not know this, because you're still getting caught up on your training and everything, but as a Ward Team Leader I have a certain degree of authority to make judgment calls. Whatever has you jumping like a jackrabbit..." Clockblocker silently cursed Jason and his Texan colloquialisms as both girls grinned at him, ruining the mood he was trying to set.

Clockblocker cleared his throat and tried to get back on track, "You can tell us anything."

"I… don't know if I can."

"Why not?" Clockblocker asked gently, glancing up at Contract. She was still standing back by the door, not exactly behind Beetle, but staying out of the conversation. She'd brought the situation to Clockblocker's attention, she had initiated the contact, but now she was leaving the ball in his court.

Where before he might have felt abandoned, he understood Contract well enough now to know that Contract was restraining her own natural tendency towards leadership to let him do his job. She would step up to help in a heartbeat if it was needed, but she didn't want to step on his toes.

"I met… a source… who claims that one of the villains in Brockton Bay has spies in the PRT," Beetle finally said, and Clockblocker turned his full attention to her. She was the one who needed his focus right now.

Clockblocker's first response was to want to dismiss it as a rookie's childish belief in intrigue, but he held off. It wasn't impossible. "Which villain?"

Beetle hesitated, but said, "Coil."

Clockblocker considered that. Coil wasn't a major player in the Bay, not the way that the gangs were, but when he did strike he tended to be pretty successful. There was even evidence that Coil had some sort of regular force besides just the mercs he hired for each job. Even so, it was a long way between thief and criminal to mastermind-with-spies.

"Do you trust this source?" he asked, deciding that they'd come back to the details of the tip after they'd verified the rest of it.

"Maybe?" Beetle murmured. "She… isn't the sort of person I'd normally trust." Translation: Beetle probably knew that she shouldn't trust her. "But I think she was telling the truth. And if even only half of it is true, then she's in really big trouble." Beetle was being earnest, so she genuinely liked this source. She was emotionally compromised, but that didn't make her wrong.

"Did she know anything else about Coil?" Clockblocker asked.

"Yes. A lot, actually. She told me that the PRT doesn't take him very seriously because they don't know half of what he's done. His people on the inside are suppressing information and covering up for him, to keep him off the official radar."

Clockblocker glanced at Contract again. Her lips were pursed, and her forehead seemed to be drawn downward like she was thinking.

Remembering all the other times that Contract had inexplicably had extra information, he asked her, "Do you know anything about Coil that might be helpful here?"

Contract was already shaking her head. "Nothing concrete. He wasn't on our radar either, although I do remember thinking it was weird that a villain could operate in a place like Brockton Bay without any real support for as long as he has. The PRT's file felt a little light when I first read it, but if he's not a priority then a light file isn't suspicious. A man can be a survivor and a cockroach without being a major threat."

"What if she's right, though?" Beetle implored.

"We need a whiteboard," Contract answered. "We need to map possibilities and approach this systematically."

"Contract's right," Clockblocker said. "I've heard enough that I can definitely understand why, for now, this is a conversation we need to keep amongst ourselves. I won't report anything until we have all talked and understand this a little better."

Beetle nodded, reluctant but trusting, and Contract gave him a single nod - a salute.

"I'm going to text Missy to come in and discuss it with us too. She's been operating in the Bay longer than anyone else on the team, and she might have first-hand knowledge that never made it into an actual report, if it didn't seem relevant at the time."

* * *

Half an hour later, the four of them were gathered in the Wards' office with the door closed, standing in front of a white board which held a diagram that Contract called a "scenario tree."

At the top, was a single point. Under this was two branches, one labeled "Coil is lame." The other was labeled, "Coil is a mastermind."

Under "Coil is lame" was a single branch "Coil does not have spies," followed by a single line connecting it to "Lisa is lying." Under this part of the tree was a series of questions and bullet points, topped by the question "Why would Lisa lie?" Beetle had shifted uncomfortably when Vista raised the point, and had said she'd talk more about that once the diagram was done and they'd come to a conclusion.

The branch "Coil is a mastermind" dominated most of the tree. Under it was another two branches, "Coil has spies" and "Coil does not have spies," and under each of these was a three-way split: "Lisa is telling the truth" next to "Lisa was sent by Coil" next to "Lisa is a triple agent."

Although complicated to look at, the tree was actually very helpful. There were a number of factors in play, and each affected the other. Lisa's trustworthiness was an unknown variable, as was Coil's competence, and his having or not having spies was another independent consideration. Splitting it out in a chart let them see which probabilities might be interrelated, and which ones weren't.

In the end, they were left with seven possible scenarios.

"Now we start pruning," Contract explained. "We don't have enough information to say for sure that any of these are impossible, but some are less likely than others. For example, if Coil is a mastermind with spies, then he probably didn't send Lisa to try to spy on us." Contract pointed to the branch in question.

"There would be no need," Vista mused aloud. "He'd already have PRT access, and he'd know that anyone interfering with the Ward dynamic is going to get looked at closely by Company or other thinkers."

"That also eliminates the chance of mastermind-spies-triple agent," Clockblocker observed. "She can't be pretending to work for him and using it as an excuse to tell the truth if he didn't send her."

"And then there were five," Contract said, as she put a red x beneath the two indicated branches.

"If he's a mastermind and doesn't have spies, why would Lisa lie and say he did?" Vista mused, considering the tree.

Beetle shifted, and Clockblocker made a decision. "Beetle, I think it's time that you tell us everything you know about Lisa. We can't make a decision if we're blind."

Beetle hesitated. "She said he was willing to kill her."

"We can't help her without more information," he cajoled, and Vista nodded eagerly at his elbow.

Beetle took a deep breath. "She said he kidnapped her at gunpoint, and then forced her to join a gang." Clockblocker waited patiently. Beetle was new to being a hero, new to being a member of the Wards, and this was the first real cape situation she'd faced. They had the time to let her do this in her own way. "She didn't come right out and say it, but I was able to figure it out. Lisa is Tattletale."

It actually took Clockblocker a moment to remember where he'd heard the name before. The Undersiders had been unusually quiet for a villain gang. The biggest job he could think of was when they'd robbed an underground casino, and that was a month ago. Clockblocker had been paying more attention to his team, at the time, than a bunch of criminals going after each other.

Beetle was rushing to explain herself. "She said that Coil has something on each of the Undersiders. He pays them to keep them happy and loyal to him, but she said he's also got the ability to destroy each of them. Lisa seemed genuinely scared for her life."

"Well, that changes things," Vista muttered, hopping up to sit on the desk. Clockblocker ran his hands through his hair, trying to keep a handle on his temper. Vista continued, while he reminded himself that the person he wanted to strangle wasn't here right now, and anger wouldn't help Beetle. "You really should have led with that, Beetle,"

"I didn't want to prejudice you," Beetle muttered.

"She meant the fact that you'd been threatened," Clockblocker growled out, not fully succeeding in keeping his calm.

"What?" Beetle asked in honest confusion.

"You were approached by a villain in civilian clothing," Vista took back over. "She knows your face."

"She doesn't know I'm a Ward."

"Do you know what Tattletale's power is?" Clockblocker asked, as gently as he could manage.

"No?" Beetle responded, finally sounding wary.

"Neither do we." Clockblocker paused to let that sink in. "It could be anything. Somehow, I don't think it's coincidence that a supervillain poured her heart out to a Ward, particularly one who is new enough that she might be so eager to help that she might not go to her team right away, as you didn't."

The story had been suspicious even before they'd had this detail; who would just open up to a friend they'd barely met the way Taylor described? Clockblocker had wanted to give this new girl the benefit of the doubt, because he knew how badly Taylor wanted friends. But this was way over the line.

"What Dennis is trying to say," Vista elaborated, "is that this is a serious breach of etiquette. Under normal circumstances, one cape outing another is grounds for the entire community, hero and villain, to turn on that individual. Tattletale hasn't quite crossed that line, but she's dancing pretty close to it. It makes the situation more serious."

"Her life being in danger isn't serious enough?" Beetle asked.

" _If_ her life is in danger. We have no proof of that," Clockblocker reminded her in frustration. Beetle's heart was in the right place, but she wasn't an experienced hero and at times like this it showed. Despite the bullying she'd endured and living in one of the poorer neighborhoods of Brockton Bay, she was somehow very naïve.

"We have too many unknowns overall." Contract observed. "We don't know how Tattletale found Taylor, and we don't know if she's even aware of cape etiquette. It's my understanding that the unspoken rules are exactly that, unspoken, with the exception of a few laws regarding the S-class truces. I was a parahuman for close to a year before I was told about all the stupid culture stuff. There's a chance the same is true of Tattletale.

"We also don't know her powers, as Clock said, which is serious in its own way. She could be a high-level master or a low-level thinker, and right now we have no way to tell. We don't know enough about Coil; we don't know how true her story was. We don't know what she might or might not know about Jason. The fact that neither of you had a bad gut-reaction is, I'm inclined to say, promising. But then I'm someone who trusts my gut. Another person might look at that and say it just proves she's a good liar."

"We need facts," Clockblocker admitted, bringing his temper back under control. The thought of an unknown villain threatening his teammates was a hard one to swallow, but Contract was right. There were too many theories right now and not enough evidence. He could be angry later.

Right now there was work to do.

* * *

Once the other Wards had arrived and been briefed, they split up duties. Vista and Beetle started by back-tracing Taylor's movements, finding Lisa, and tracking her as well as the city records would allow.

Gallant and Kid Win took the research into Lisa Wilbourn, which was the official name returned to them by the facial recognition software. Contract took Intrepid with her, in civilian dress, and went to look over the places where they knew Lisa had been, and where she claimed to have been. Clockblocker wasn't sure what they were looking for, but he trusted them enough to wait for the results.

For his part, he processed the necessary paperwork to open a sealed investigation, and then went to brief Armsmaster in person about the broad strokes; namely, that one of the Wards had been approached in civilian life by a villain, and there was good reason not to involve the general PRT. Armsmaster gave him until Monday to provide more details.

Then he called his mom and explained that not only was Contract not coming to dinner, he wasn't going to make it either. She was understanding, more than he'd expected which probably meant she was thinking about how they wouldn't be celebrating if it wasn't for Contract, and told him they'd do it another time. Clockblocker sighed, then went to check in with his team.

They gathered back together around seven o'clock when Contract and Intrepid returned with Chinese takeout.

"We're pretty sure Tattletale is a thinker," Missy said as she claimed the black pepper chicken and a pair of chopsticks. "She managed to disappear off of the city cameras pretty quick, but usually after she glanced up at them. And we think we found first contact."

Taylor reached over and cued up a surveillance video that showed the exterior of several boardwalk shops, and narrated as she played the relevant section of tape. "Just after 11 AM on Tuesday, Lisa shows up at the Boardwalk. She wanders in and out of shops, but doesn't buy anything. She seems relaxed and calm. Then she goes into this boutique. Ten minutes later, Fi and I go into the same boutique. We stay there for twenty seven minutes, but eight minutes after we go in, Lisa comes out, and she looks freaked."

The security camera wasn't of great quality, but it was enough to see that Lisa was walking more stiffly and more quickly. Missy took up the retelling.

"She gets on a city bus immediately, according to her credit card statement, but we don't know where she got off. Hours later, she uses her card again to catch one of the lines that goes around the bay and terminates at the docks. After that, we've got nothing on her until she gets on Taylor's bus on Monday afternoon, ten minutes before it pulls up at Winslow."

"So she was on the bus specifically to talk to you," Jason said. Dennis took another bite of his beef and broccoli. Gallant had cornered him earlier to make sure he knew that Taylor and Jason were both emotionally compromised on the case. They had believed Lisa's story, and even with the news that she was a villain they were inclined to continue to believe her.

Dennis could see where they were coming from. For most of his own cape career, he had been the hot-shot headache that his superiors had to reign in. He had gone with his gut on several occasions, to great success. He'd probably still be inclined to trust his instinct if it hadn't been for his close call. Although it had been Velocity's judgment and not his own that had put Dennis and Missy in hot water, it had still tempered Dennis' reliance on gut instinct.

At the moment, there was no reason to address the emotional bias of the team because it wasn't affecting their work. It might even temper Dennis's immediate dislike for Tattletale after he realized she'd lied to his teammates. Still, it was something to keep in mind.

"Not only that, but she was on the bus prepared with a fake backstory tailored to you," Chris told Taylor. "Dean and I combed through the camp records. There's no Lisa enrolled as a camper, counselor, or staff. As far as we can tell, your paths didn't cross before this."

"Of course, the more we dig, the more it seems like Lisa didn't really exist before a couple months ago," Dean added. "There's records for her name going back 16 years, but any time we called up a school or a club, no one remembered her, and no yearbook photos, either. It looks like she's been using the Lisa identity for six or eight months at most. Possibly less."

"I can look into it," Fi offered. "I've had my fair share of fake names and false identities. I might be able to find other aliases. No promises, because it was normally Ash that set that stuff up and tracked it down, but I can give it my best shot."

Dennis glanced at Dean, but he didn't seem uncomfortable. That was good. It meant that Fi wasn't suppressing massive amounts of grief at the mention of Ash, and it meant that Dean was adjusting to Fi's normal grief levels, which had been headache-inducing for him the first week or so after "that night."

"We've got until Monday before we have to declassify this to Armsmaster, and then it's his decision where this goes from there," Dennis reported, to general nods of agreement. "As I understand it so far, it looks like Lisa has been on the run, possibly involved in crime, for six months minimum. She encounters Taylor and Fi, and figures out their secret identities, most likely on accident. Any objections?"

Head shakes all around.

"Tattletale then goes home and manages to do a thorough background search on Taylor, and decides to approach her in civilian identity. She manipulates her into agreeing to meet for lunch, and then gets her alone on a city bus." Taylor didn't look happy with the way he was summarizing the situation, but she didn't protest. It was probably the biased language he was using.

"Then she spins her story and leaves. That was twenty-four hours ago, more or less."

"The story is internally consistent." Missy allowed. "It isn't disproven by anything we know for sure. Coming from a villain, I think we're right to be cautious, but I have a bad feeling it might be true."

She sat back in her chair, trying to put what she was feeling into words. "I've only gone up against Coil once, and he was able to vanish… easily. We chased him down a couple streets and he always managed to turn in the worst direction for us. I also took the liberty of looking into his file while we were scanning security footage. It's the same for every encounter. He's… incredibly lucky, at the very least."

Dennis nodded, processing not just what Missy was saying but how she was saying it. Her gut was aligned with Taylor's and Jason's. As an experienced Ward and an insightful team member, he couldn't dismiss her and he didn't want to. She was good at reading people, she'd watched Lisa on the tapes and she'd probably talked with Taylor in greater depth about her encounters.

Jason spoke up next. "I don't like that she lied to Taylor, and manipulated both of us, but if her story is true she may not have had another option."

"Go on," Dennis encouraged, interested to see what Jason thought of the situation. Behind Vista and Dennis, Jason was actually the Ward with the third-most service, even if most of that time had been served in the lower-profile Texas Wards.

"Well, assume for a moment that it's all true. She's out shopping one day when power shenanigans tells her she's standing next to one or two of the Brockton Bay Wards. She's a villain, but she's in over the head and she wants out. Like she told Taylor, she can't go through the normal channels due to spy stuff. She might have been able to go to New Wave, but maybe there's other stuff there we don't know about. So now she finally has a way to get to the Wards directly.

"As far as we know, she sits on this information for four days before she does anything. I think that's a good sign. When she does approach, she does it in a public place, possibly to protect herself. She doesn't threaten Taylor, instead she makes herself vulnerable. And she begs for help, as best as she can. She actually could have begged even more if she'd told Taylor that she knew who she was. Lisa had to know we'd figure that out as soon as Taylor asked for her team's help, but Lisa didn't play that card."

"If she's telling the truth," Chris tacked on. "Is there a way we can be sure?"

"I'd feel more confident if I could hear it for myself," Fi admitted, reaching for the last egg roll. "Nothing against you guys, but you didn't know what you were dealing with. I'd like the chance to get a gut-read on Lisa knowing what we know now."

"Just a gut read?" Jason teased.

Fi shrugged. "I've been mulling over contracts all day, but I don't know that we're that desperate yet. Anything solid enough to be useful is pretty expensive."

"Well, why don't you work on other aliases, and we'll sort out a way to bring her in for questioning safely," Dennis ordered. Taylor opened her mouth to protest, but Dennis cut her off. "If we're taking Coil's death threat seriously, then we need to put Lisa in protective custody. If we're not, then we have to assume Lisa is lying and we need to arrest her for endangering you. Which is it?"

Fi stood up and went over to the console, not waiting to hear the outcome of his discussion with Taylor.

* * *

After another hour of planning, Taylor finally just texted the number Lisa had given her.

 _Taylor: We need to talk_

Within less than a minute, Lisa's response came back.

 _Lisa: When and where?_

This was the rub. Although they didn't really want to give Lisa more time to do whatever she might be doing, the truth was that it was getting late and they had school the next day. So it either had to be immediately, or it had to wait for tomorrow afternoon. A quick vote decided the issue.

 _Taylor: Can you meet me in the Northern Brockton Bay Library? Second floor? Sooner is better. The library closes at nine._

 _Lisa: Alright. See you there._

The library was one of the discreet ways for the Wards to get into their base. The unisex bathroom on the second floor concealed a tiny elevator that deposited users in one of the underground access tunnels to the garage.

Clockblocker pulled his mask back on as soon as Beetle finished reading the text. He and Taylor went to meet Lisa and bring her back to the base through the established, protected maskless route while those of the team not previously suited up did so.

Fi hadn't been able to track down any of Lisa's other aliases. She had been able to tell that Lisa had probably set the identity up herself, but hadn't been able to profile much about her from the fake past that she had built. Because Lisa had done the work personally, it might contain clues to her true past, but it would take time. There might be more there to explore later, if it became necessary.

Taylor and Clockblocker walked together in silence until they were in the actual tunnel that connected to the library. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you yesterday," she murmured.

Clockblocker sighed. This really wasn't the right time to be doing this, but since Taylor had brought the subject up, he had to say something. "You're not used to having someone who will watch your back," he allowed. Then he stopped walking, which forced Taylor to stop also. She turned to look at him. "I'm just glad that you were lucky. Lisa might have been dangerous. She might still be dangerous. I'm really happy that you're not hurt. But we can't help if we don't know."

Taylor nodded, and Clockblocker started walking again. There would be more to say eventually, but that could wait until the appropriate time. Right now, they had a villain to meet.

The elevator was barely big enough for him and Taylor to ride together, and Clockblocker made a note to have Lisa come down with him so that he could freeze her if necessary. Then they used the disguised peephole to make sure the coast was clear, and exited the bathroom. Taylor headed toward the reading area next to the staircase, and they both selected a seat.

This late at night the library was open mainly for the benefit of the college students who used the computer labs and archives on the first floor. The second floor was deserted, silent, and eerie. They had to wait nearly twenty minutes for Lisa to show, and Clockblocker noticed that Taylor didn't fidget the entire time. In fact, she didn't move. It took him longer than he'd like to admit to realize why.

"How many people are in the building?" he asked casually.

"Twelve. Nine people on computers, a janitor, a librarian and a dude looking through the microfiche. Why?"

"Just wondering," Clockblocker said, amazed at the detail that Taylor was able to pick up. "Do you think you'll know Lisa?"

"I'll be able to find her when she comes in, definitely, because who else comes into a library just before closing? But I don't know if I can spot her on the street. She's just another girl."

Clockblocker made a note to pull some of the files on Nice Guy and Heartbreaker for Taylor to read over when all this was done. He didn't want to give her nightmares, but she needed to understand the dangers mental powers could present before underestimating them got her hurt.

"Speaking of," Taylor unintentionally cut off his thoughts, "a short woman with long hair in Lisa's style just walked in. She's headed toward the stairs now." Taylor stood up and went closer to the top of the staircase, ready to be the first thing that Lisa saw. Clockblocker followed behind, putting himself out of the direct line of sight but close enough that he could lunge for Tattletale if she tried to run.

"Hey, Lisa," Taylor said, moving forward to hug the girl as soon as she was visible. Then, with an arm still around her shoulders, she turned toward Clockblocker. "I want you to meet a friend of mine. He can help you, and he's already promised to keep your case confidential."

At Intrepid's suggestion, they had decided not to tell Lisa that Taylor was, in fact, Beetle, even if it seemed that Lisa already knew. Instead, they would play the situation off as her being a friend of the Wards, perhaps someone's sibling, and see where it went. It never hurt to be safe.

"Clockblocker," he said, stepping forward and extending a hand. Lisa shook it very warily.

"Lisa. Should we be talking in public like this?" she asked, glancing around.

"We'll go in just a minute. First you have to sign a confidentiality contract. It's required for everyone involved in your case, for your protection and theirs. It means that you can't share anything you learn through the course of the investigation until released by a court order or the PRT."

Lisa raised an eyebrow, but then nodded, and Clockblocker led her back over to the reading area so they could use one of the library's tables. She glanced at the contract, not long enough to read it but longer than most before she signed and initialed in the appropriate places.

"Alright, come on." Clockblocker lead her over to the bathroom, and rode the elevator down with her. Even though Tattletale was smaller than Taylor, it somehow seemed even more cramped with her in the car. Then they both waited, silent and awkward, for the elevator to retrieve Taylor.

When the single door dinged open, Taylor immediately stepped close to Lisa. "It'll be okay," she reassured, as Clockblocker led them both through the maze of access and maintenance tunnels, as though Taylor didn't know the way herself.

"I hope you're right," Lisa whispered. The fear in her voice sounded real.

Though it had only been a few moments, Clockblocker was inclined to agree with the snap assessments of Beetle, Intrepid, and Vista. Tattletale didn't seem threatening. She wasn't aggressive or assertive. Her nervousness seemed genuine, and her breathing and walking were almost too-perfect as though she was counting in her head to keep herself calm.

Most tellingly, she was willingly walking into the Wards' base. It was possible that this had been her goal all along, but extremely unlikely. If that was the case, there were other lies she could have told to make the invitation more guaranteed. The only reason she was being brought here was a lack of time; if they weren't worried about giving her (or Coil, whoever the bad guy was in this) more freedom to prepare, they would have waited until a safe house could be prepped.

They took the elevator up to the Wards' base, and Clockblocker mentally counted down the masking clock until the doors opened. The rest of his team, minus Kid Win, was assembled around the general table, with the three seats nearest the elevator left open. With a sly glance in his direction, Lisa took the center seat as Taylor sat on her left and Clockblocker on her right. His suspicion spiked. This was how he'd prefer for them to sit, with the villain in arm's reach in case his power was needed, but still allowing Tattletale to be next to Beetle in order to make her calmer and more likely to cooperate. But the look she'd given him as she took the seat made him uneasy, wondering if it was part of a ploy. God, he hated Thinkers.

"Hi, Lisa, I'm Contract," Contract introduced herself. "This is Intrepid," she motioned to Intrepid on her right. "Do you know everyone else?"

"I do."

Contract smiled, open and inviting. "Good. I want you to know, Lisa, you're not in trouble right now."

As rehearsed, Clockblocker clarified the statement. "From what Taylor told us when she asked for our help, you're Tattletale, right?"

Lisa's eyes widened, startled, but she didn't deny it. "We're not here about your past crimes," he continued. Not at the moment, anyway. "We're concerned about what you told Taylor." Clockblocker carefully omitted whether or not they believed the story she'd spun. That would be partially determined by this interview, though it seemed to be getting more and more probable.

"The thing is," Gallant took over, as the one most able to read her emotions and reactions, "we need to hear it from you directly. Legally, we're prepared to register you as a confidential informant and protect you as such. But first, we have to hear all the information from you, not from Taylor."

"It's okay, Lisa. You can trust them," Taylor encouraged. Lisa, for her part, was starting to look like she was recovering. Clockblocker wondered what had shocked her. The open-mindedness?

"I… don't want to incriminate myself."

"Lisa, may I call you Lisa?" Contract ventured, and she continued as Tattletale nodded, "Either your life's in danger, or it isn't."

Clockblocker took up the thread of conversation. It was amazing how easy it was to read Contract's intentions, now that they'd had more exposure to each other's thinking styles. Contract was purposefully playing the most shocking card first, letting him follow on and re-focus the discussion in the direction he wished, but without monopolizing the interview. "If you honestly are trying to help yourself and us, there is precedent we can fall back on. You can be paroled to the Wards in payment for any previous crimes you might have committed."

Tattletale smirked in a way that screamed "smug thinker" and made it hard to think of her as Lisa. In fact, Clockblocker found he was having trouble pinning down exactly _what_ he thought of this girl. "I don't think the PRT will be eager to repeat the mistakes they made with Shadow Stalker." He also mentally increased Tattletale's rating from thinker three to thinker four.

Contract snorted, and Clockblocker stayed silent, to let her answer the observation about Shadow Stalker. "I dare them to say no to me, or to anything this team recommends."

Lisa's smugness dropped away, and she leaned back a little bit in her chair. "Where would you like me to start?"

"You can go now, Taylor. This is Wards' business. Thank you for bringing it to our attention," Clockblocker dismissed her in order to protect her cover. While it was nearly certain that Tattletale had already it figured out, Clockblocker wouldn't forgive himself if she didn't know and he gave it away.

"Okay. Thanks." Taylor stood up and squeezed Lisa's shoulder, then left through the normal elevator. She would go down to her spinning room and watch the interview remotely from there, making notes if Lisa contradicted anything she'd previously said or that Taylor herself had observed. She'd also be able to talk to Kid Win, who was sequestered in his tinker lab, via comm link. Keeping two Wards separate from Lisa wasn't perfect master/stranger protocol, but it was better than nothing and a compromise to getting the full PRT involved.

The Wards had previously agreed that Clockblocker would lead the main interrogation. Vista had a read-out screen for a version of Armsmaster's lie detector hiding in her lap, and Kid Win was seeing the same display in his lab, and could call into Clockblocker or one of the other team members if necessary. Gallant would be using his abilities to judge Tattletale's sincerity as well. If Lisa lied to Clockblocker and the others felt he needed to know immediately, they'd call her on it.

Otherwise, he and Contract would run the interrogation based on their own judgment, with Intrepid waiting in the wings to act as the "friendly cop" if he and Contract felt it was necessary to become harsh or critical.

"Lisa," Clockblocker said, deciding not to use her villain name for now, "why don't you start with the first time Coil contacted you. What happened?"

"I was at the Boardwalk. I got cornered by three people, all armed. At first I thought they might be enforcers, but then my power told me they were hired hit men. By then it was too late. They got me alone, out of sight, and I was told to either show up at a prearranged location and join the people I would find there, or I would be shot. Fatally."

Lisa tried to be dispassionate about the incident, but Clockblocker sensed that on some level, she was still scared by how easily she had been found and threatened.

"So you went to the location…" Clockblocker led her on.

"And I met the other Undersiders. I tried to stay out of costume, just run interference between them and Coil, keep my hands clean. That… wasn't an option."

Clockblocker wondered if it was Coil or the Undersiders that had pressured her, but it didn't matter. "You've been with the Undersiders for quite some time. Are you saying that everything you've done has been under duress?"

"Yes." She glanced around the table, and then dropped her gaze her hands, which we fiddling about in her lap. "I wasn't innocent before the Undersiders, but I never wanted to hurt anyone and I would never have joined them if I'd had a choice."

Clockblocker had two routes he could go now; he could fish for more information about the Undersiders, about their crimes and abilities, or he could go after Coil.

"What can you tell us about Coil?"

"He's far more deadly than anyone gives him credit for," Lisa replied immediately, sitting forward just a bit. Interesting. She was eager to sell out Coil, which once again increased the credibility of her story. Assuming she wasn't just acting. Damn Thinkers.

"What are his powers?"

"I don't know the details, but it's some sort of probability manipulation. He usually calls us just before a job to give us the go ahead or to cancel last minute. Or he'll give us some sort of advice. The Undersiders are known as escape artists, but more of our success than I care to admit has been a matter of luck, or at least helped by luck."

"He could be a shaker, a precog, some other sort of thinker…" Intrepid mused.

"It's a big jump from there to a criminal mastermind with government spies," Clockblocker probed. He kept his tone observational, rather than critical. It did no good to turn this into a conflict.

"He's managed to trap me on multiple occasions. He knew information about me that no one else knows, and he told me himself that he was the single most powerful force in Brockton Bay. He believed it, and I didn't see any sign of psychosis."

Contract sighed, leaning back to soften her words. "The thing is, Lisa, we don't just have to trust you. We have to trust that you're smart enough to have out-played Coil. And according to you, that should be pretty difficult to do."

Lisa licked her lips, nervously glancing around the table again. Clockblocker let her think and tried not to look like he was holding his breath. He was rewarded a moment later, when Lisa finally made her decision. "My power lets me observe details, and draw conclusions based on those details."

"Like Sherlock Holmes?" Intrepid volunteered when Lisa paused, uncertain.

That made Lisa smile, and she nodded. "Yes. Exactly like that, but on steroids. My power isn't perfect. It can be wrong if there's enough not information, or when I push too hard. If I'm looking for a particular type of answer it can overlook other important details, that sort of thing. But I've interacted with Coil multiple times, and each time my power tells me the same thing. He's dangerous, and he's deadly serious about killing me if I betray him."

"So why do it?" Clockblocker asked, point blank. This was the piece he couldn't reconcile. Why turn on Coil, if he did hold her life in his hands? Why now? Why to the Wards?

Lisa stared at him, chewing her lip, then glanced at Contract, who spoke. "You recognized me."

Lisa physically flinched, as though scared that the very statement would be enough to bring some sort of harm down on her head.

"I don't get it," Gallant interjected. Clockblocker, though, could see exactly what she meant.

"You saw Contract's civilian face and your power told you who she was. And you guessed that the Protectorate would be watching for threats like that. So you decided to come in, before we came hunting for you."

As weird as it might sound, knowing that Lisa had come to them for her own purposes was the last bit that Clockblocker needed to be able to trust her story. It made everything line up, make sense, and he had needed that.

Lisa was reluctantly nodding. Clockblocker was reminded of himself, when he'd first realized he was going to have to be more mature if he wanted to be a team leader. It was so hard not to be snarky, to control your thoughts and your expressions. Lisa was right to be wary while she was surrounded by potential enemies, but Clockblocker had the sense that she was actually forcing herself to hold back for other reasons.

"My power guessed that even if I wasn't in danger from the Protectorate, I might be in danger from Coil. More danger, I mean. I've never been able to lie to him successfully. And he would want you," she tacked on, addressing Contract. "If he could find a way to control you, he'd definitely want you."

Contract snorted. "Good luck to him."

Lisa's eyes widened, and Contract's eyebrows and forehead drew down in a way that Clockblocker read as her narrowing her eyes behind her mask. "What did you just see?" he demanded of Lisa, before Contract could do so and possibly give more away.

Lisa gulped, glanced at Contract, but after a moment she answered Clockblocker. "Someone has tried to control you before. Several someones." She trailed off, but Clockblocker sensed that there was more.

"Spit it out."

Lisa shook her head. "Contract interferes with my power. I get bad data. Wrong answers."

"How can you know?" Intrepid asked, cautious.

Lisa sighed, but answered. "Well, I'm pretty sure Contract has never been kidnapped by the CUI." She used a hand to rub her forehead, and spoke with her eyes closed. "The first time I saw you, my power told me that you were fifteen, twenty two, and twenty nine. You'd become Deaf recently, and had been Deaf for several years."

Reluctantly, Lisa opened her eyes and looked at Contract. Clockblocker wondered if closing her eyes had been a defense mechanism to try not to read more. It was lucky, too, because that last observation actually sounded pretty close to the truth, and if Contract hadn't been kidnapped by the CUI she had spent time being tortured at the hands of some sort of shadowy organization. Even if Tattletale couldn't read Contract, she might have read the truth of the rest of it from the other Wards.

Lisa was still speaking to Contract, apparently unaware of the shock Clockblocker and his team was trying to control. "The more I accidentally read, the more I get impossible or contradictory answers. That's how I guessed who you were. I wondered who would be immune to my power, and realized that the PHO rumors are true: you're thinker resistant."

Contract nodded. "I also tend to mess with precogs. But neither of those will help us against Coil." She sounded perfectly calm, unfazed by the fact that she wasn't nearly as thinker-resistant as Lisa seemed to think she was.

Lisa slumped in relief. "Then you'll help me?"

Contract turned to him, since it was his decision as team leader, and Clockblocker nodded decisively, forcing his thoughts back on track. "I've heard enough to continue the investigation. Does anyone disagree?"

Because this was a closed, confidential investigation, regulations required that all team members in the know be given regular opportunities to voice concerns. It was a way to try to prevent vigilantism, although it was far from perfect. Still, better than nothing.

There were no objections, so Clockblocker nodded again to express his thanks, and got subtle nods back from his teammates as he looked back towards Lisa. "You and I need to sign some paperwork to register you as a confidential informant. Paper copies only, for now, so you won't be in any system, but we need to do this by this book."

He stood up, and Lisa followed him over to the smaller, segregated office. Clockblocker had to force himself to breathe steadily. As soon as paperwork was done and Armsmaster was briefed, they'd be able to grill Lisa for details on Coil.

Then the real fun would begin.


	37. Just another day at the (Wards') office

**Chapter Thirty-Seven: Just another day at the (Wards') office...**

 **April 7, 2011**

Dennis spent the night on base with Fi, Taylor, and Lisa. Armsmaster had approved talking Lisa into protective custody for the duration of their actions against Coil, and since they were trying to keep the whole thing off the PRT radar, it made sense to stash her in one of the extra bunks in the Wards' base. Of course since Lisa was also a villain and a thinker, she had to be under constant surveillance, which meant the Wards were on rotating guard duty.

Dennis volunteered for the early morning shift, from 4 AM until whenever the day began, and he spent the time on his regular paperwork. There were forms to file for missing school, plus the follow-up forms to prove that everyone who had skipped classes had made up the work. There were reports to write up, but not yet submit, about what they'd learned about Tattletale and what she'd hinted of the other Undersiders, even accidentally.

There were four authorization forms to backdate allowing Kid Win to request Contract's help in his lab, since tinker labs were classified as high-risk environments and potentially dangerous to non-tinker and non-brute individuals. At least Chris was remembering to send Dennis the form whenever she turned up. At this rate, they'd be better off finding a way to give Contract a Tinker 0 rating.

It would be worth it to the team too, since Chris had three registration packets waiting for Dennis to approve. He'd finally finished Intrepid's replacement tinker gun, which had interchangeable options for sonic, hard light, or containment foam shots. Chris had also developed a… data transmitter? It wasn't until Dennis got to the drawings in the back that he realized Chris had built a sort of keyboard that could be operated by bugs, allowing Beetle to transmit information without having to speak. The text could be sent to any teammate whose visor was capable of receiving text dumps, or could be turned into audio through a reverse-use of Contract's program.

The third device was even stranger. It seemed to be a combination gun and hover transport, similar to the board Kid Win already had but with much more bizarre configurations. It seemed like the same cartridges that propelled the board could also be used as back-up ammunition producing flares or fireballs of some sort. The hard-light shield emitters could double as mobilization by methods that Dennis didn't begin to understand. The main weapon seemed to be the same sonic-style shot that was the first choice in Intrepid's gun, but scaled up four times as big.

Dennis signed off on all three designs, knowing that Chris most likely had them built or almost so, and forwarded the reports to Piggot and Renick.

Once that was out of the way, he set himself to emptying the rest of his inbox. There were bulletins, newsletters, complaints from PR that they still hadn't had a formal full-team interview, solicitations for interviews, fan mail that had sneaked past the screens, PHO alerts and updates which he pulled their own folder to deal with later rather than deleting, and then a single email from Weld. Interesting.

 _From: Weld (NNE, Boston)  
_ _To: Clockblocker (ENE, Brockton Bay)  
_ _7 Apr 2011 2:33 AM  
_ _Subject: Joint Exercises_

 _Clockblocker,_

 _I know you don't want to hear this, but I got a message from Company. He advised me not to mention his name, but I have no intention of approaching you under false pretenses. Anyway, he said that Contract has benefited greatly from some full-contact exercises that you ran a little while ago and suggested that I reach out to you and invite the Brockton Bay Wards to join my team for some joint training._

 _As it so happens, I was already looking for the right time to re-extend this invitation. The Boston Wards regularly train with some or all of the New York Wards, and we've issued the same invitation to Brockton Bay in the past. At that time, Triumph replied that you were too busy with duty to have time for outside activities, but with crime at an all-time low (I guess having the Ender in the city might have something to do with that) I thought now might be a good time to renew our offer._

 _I understand (through Jouster, not Company) that Contract's time in NYC wasn't very pleasant, so I'll leave it up to you if you'd like to include some, all, or none of the NY Wards in any activities our teams might coordinate for. We'd also be happy to come visit you, if you like. However, I'd feel remiss if I didn't point out that we have a fully enclosed arena for practice and simulations, and plenty of open bunks if you'd like to do more than a day trip. I've spoken briefly with my team and we're good for full mask, partial reveal, or full reveal. Again, whatever is comfortable for you and yours._

 _Given the tone of Company's email, I'm sorry that I waited for his prompting. I wish we could get together without him hanging over us. We all just want to help._

 _Regards,  
_ _Weld_

Clockblocker read the email twice, then checked the time. Just after seven. Unless Tattletale was an early riser, he had time to answer.

 _From: Clockblocker (ENE, Brockton Bay)  
_ _To: Weld (NNE, Boston)  
_ _7 Apr 2011 7:12 AM  
_ _Subject: Re: Joint Exercises_

 _Good morning Weld,_

 _First, about Company: Contract and I have an agreement. As long as I don't report to him, or any other PRT Thinkers, she doesn't want to know what does and doesn't come from him. You might be aware that Company and his crew produce weekly reports about the whole situation, and she has flat told me that she'd rather have me read it than have no one on the team who knows what's going on, but she doesn't want to know what it says._

 _In the spirit of that arrangement with her, I would also prefer not to "have him hanging over us" as you put it. Do you agree that neither yourself nor anyone else on your team will be reporting to him?_

 _If you can, in good conscience, agree to this condition, I think that both of our teams could benefit from the type of exercise you allude to, whether full contact or just single-touch training. What sort of timeframe did you have in mind? Think about what I've said and get back to me whenever is good for you._

 _Clockblocker_

Clockblocker read over the draft of his email. Missy would tell him that it was very blunt, but blunt was just his style, and it wasn't any more straightforward than Weld's own message had been. He dodged the question of the New York Wards, as well as all other details, because they didn't matter if Weld wasn't willing to agree to this basic requirement.

Contract's aversion for Company bordered on fear at times, and Clockblocker wasn't sure why. She showed none of the same resistance to Tattletale, who by her own admission was also an extremely powerful thinker. Was it because Tattletale's power didn't work on Contract? Or because Tattletale was just a single individual?

Clockblocker sent the email and sat back from his computer, thinking. Contract's disdain for PRT wasn't hard to deduce, although she didn't seem to have problems with individuals like Piggot or Renick (well, not after she was proven right about Shadow Stalker anyways). It was more as though she shied away from the institution as a whole. It wasn't hard to see how Company might represent the more bureaucratic parts of the PRT in her mind, not least of which because he was there in New York when she was forced into the PRT.

Clockblocker opened a new email and sent a quick note to Jessica Yamada. Contract had given permission to him (and he suspected Armsmaster as well) for them to send information to Yamada, although she had not been released to tell them anything in return. When he'd asked Contract why she was okay with Yamada and not Company, she'd reluctantly admitted that she did, occasionally, overestimate herself, and then had clammed up and offered no details.

It was more than enough for Clockblocker, and his respect for Contract took another jump. She'd needed to have sense beaten into her before and, though she didn't like the idea, she knew it might be necessary in the future. It might also explain why she never missed a scheduled session with the therapist, even though she was sporadic about attending every other activity on her calendar.

His inbox dinged, and Clockblocker opened the reply from Weld.

 _From: Weld (NNE, Boston)  
_ _To: Clockblocker (ENE, Brockton Bay)  
_ _7 Apr 2011 7:28 AM  
_ _Subject: Re: Joint Exercises_

 _Clockblocker,_

 _I find that condition more than reasonable, and as I haven't mentioned Company to any of my teammates I don't need to check with them before agreeing. We're available whenever is good for you. Whether due to our proximity to Brockton Bay (and consequently the Ender) or for some other reason, crime has been in a slump here as well, so my team hasn't used any of our allotted school absences this month. (But between you and I, getting together on the weekend would let us avoid some paperwork.)_

 _Let me know what's best for you, in this regard and in the others I mentioned before._

 _Weld_

Clockblocker nodded in satisfaction and flagged the message to catch his attention later. He'd bounce ideas off of Missy about what she thought they needed to focus on to get the most out of this sort of opportunity, and then bring it up with Contract and see what she thought about the other details. Most likely, however, it would all need to wait until the situation with Coil settled down.

He opened a quick draft email and pre-wrote a post script, telling Weld not to call Contract "the Ender." Then he realized that he wasn't sure how to explain why Contract hated the nickname. Oh well, he'd ask her if she wanted him to say anything about it when he got her opinion on the other details.

Clockblocker jumped as a body landed in the chair next to him, spinning it a little, and he pulled his hand back before he reflexively tagged Contract.

"Sorry," she muttered, pulling her visor on over her bedhead, "didn't mean to startle you."

Clockblocker glanced toward the doorway to the dorms, which was nominally in his field of vision, and then admitted to himself that he had gotten too wrapped up in his work. To be fair, however, Contract was wicked good at going unnoticed when she wished, although walking around in socks half the time certainly helped her move silently.

"I had something I wanted to discuss with you before our visitor gets up," she added, curling her feet up under herself. Clockblocker had noticed that she'd only started sitting like this recently, and it had taken him a good three days to work out that it was a posture she only used when she was comfortable and felt safe in her surroundings. When she was more alert, she put her feet up on the nearest table. He hadn't expected to see it this morning, but she evidently felt safe even with Tattletale asleep a few rooms away.

"Go for it," he said, turning towards her. Although the visor would translate his words into subtitles for her, he knew that she also preferred to see what little of his face was exposed by his mask to help her read his emotions.

"I think we should arrest Tattletale."

A month ago, Clockblocker would have reacted immediately, probably a reflexive protest against a radical move with no immediately apparent benefit. Now he recognized that this was just how Fi spoke: she started with the simplest summary she could and then explained herself afterwards, as a sort of preview to what was coming. He waved her on to show he was listening.

"Coil is going to try to contact her eventually, and at that point we'll be reacting to him instead of acting on our own terms. If we fake an arrest now and put the paperwork in the system for his spies, then we'll buy ourselves some time. Ideally, we'll be able to convince her to help us arrest the remainder of the Undersiders at the same time. That would solidify her cover and keep them protected. Plus, you know, get three teenage criminals off the street."

Clockblocker nodded, liking the idea, but it wasn't perfect. "How do we justify keeping Tattletale separate from the rest of her team?"

"We could keep them all isolated," she offered.

"No, we would do that anyway. I mean, how do we justify to the rest of the PRT why three Undersiders are in holding cells and one is hiding our base?"

Contract shrugged. "I haven't gotten that far."

Clockblocker nodded again, letting her know that he'd heard her. He found that nonverbal communication was even more critical with Contract now that she'd lost her hearing. "If we arrested only Tattletale, it would draw less attention if we wanted to hold her in a non-standard location, but it would still generate more than enough gossip for Coil's spies to hear about it around the water cooler, no matter who they are."

"So maybe it's a bum idea," Contract said as she uncurled and put her feet up on the table. As Clockblocker tried to figure out whether something he'd said had made her uncomfortable, Tattletale wandered out of the bunk area, still dressed in her street clothes from the previous night. Oh. That would explain the shift in posture.

"What's a bum idea?" Tattletale asked. Then she started, seeming to realize that he and Contract were in civilian dress except for their masks.

"Arresting you to give Coil a good reason not to call," Contract explained. "I was hoping to be proactive."

"And hoping I'd turn on my teammates," Tattletale accused. Clockblocker thought her defensiveness was a little much, considering she hadn't seemed all that fond of them yesterday, but then he'd defended Shadow Stalker despite her abrasive personality.

Contract shrugged but didn't deny it. "You did say that Coil had them under the guillotine as well."

Tattletale took the seat across from Clockblocker, not taking the bait to explain what Coil was holding over her teammates' heads. Whatever it was, it was probably related to their civilian identities, because Tattletale was guarding it carefully.

It was up to Clockblocker to fill the silence before it got too awkward. "Do you have a better excuse that we could stage for Coil's benefit?"

"Do you really think that's necessary?" she bit back. "Why can't you guys just deal with him? I mean, hell, you killed the Endbringers!"

Clockblocker leaned forward in unison with Contract's feet hitting the floor as she sat up, both of them taking offense at that. Clockblocker got his response out first, maybe because Contract was still reading Tattletale's words or maybe because Contract wanted to hear what he would say.

"Don't you dare. You came to us for help, you don't get to judge us or make demands. You have no idea what the Endbringers cost us. And no idea what you're asking." He held Tattletale's gaze as well as he could through his helmet's visor, which meant that he was watching as her eyes went wide.

Shit. Had he given away more than he meant to?

Tattletale looked over to Contract. Contract didn't yell, as he had, instead drawling in a low, dangerous tone, "The Endbringers weren't human. Their death was not murder. Whatever else Coil is or has done, he deserves a trial."

Tattletale gulped and leaned back further in her chair, raising her hands in surrender. Her face was white as a sheet, so she was clearly freaked out by whatever she had seen or guessed. "Sorry," she muttered, glancing down. Contract snorted, then leaned back and put her feet back on the table next to his laptop.

Well then. That was that.

Now it was his job, as team leader, to move them in a productive direction. "That's not to say that we're not trying. But it's been less than a day, and we're flying blind here."

"If you want Coil dealt with," Contract continued, following Clockblocker's cue flawlessly, "then sit down and map out everything you know. Bases. Suspected bases. Financials. Powers. Other assets." She turned to Clockblocker, dismissing Tattletale. "I'm going to the gym."

"Be safe," he wished her, as she dragged her feet off the table again and disappeared into the elevator. He wondered if she remembered or cared that she was still wearing only her socks, then decided it wasn't his problem. Most people didn't come into the office until 8 AM anyway, and if anyone wanted to tell Contract to wear shoes they could be his guest.

Once the door was closed, Tattletale returned her still slightly-wide eyes back to him. "Did she really destroy the Endbringers alone?"

Clockblocker wondered how much he should say. Technically, those events were secret under the Endbringer truce. The official story had never gotten Triumvirate approval either, they'd just assumed that so long as they weren't being struck by lightning or other high-power shenanigans, then the big three didn't disapprove.

In truth, Contract had explained that she hadn't actually destroyed the Endbringers, Eidolon had. But what she had done was both the necessary prerequisite that let him destroy them, and also far more impressive, in Clockblocker's opinion.

Evidently, Tattletale didn't need a verbal answer. "What she did, she did alone. But it wasn't destroying the Endbringers, it was something bigger. Something you've been sworn to secrecy about. Then why say that Eidolon helped?"

Tattletale gasped, and Clockblocker realized that she was verbalizing her thought process in order to better cold-read him. Well, time to finish that before she got them both killed by the CONSPIRACY.

"Shut up," he barked out in his most commanding tone. "Just… shut up." Tattletale nodded, eyes wide again. He wondered how much she would be able to read if Contract was still sitting next to him. Maybe she'd be able to see it all, because all she needed was him, or maybe Contract would distract her power and confuse it. He didn't fully understand what Contract did to Tattletale's powers, but it was something to at least consider.

After yet another an awkward moment in a conversation that had been littered with them, Tattletale reached for the roadmap of Brockton Bay that Clockblocker had bought last night in preparation for whatever patterns they might be able to spot about Coil's movements in Brockton Bay. She opened it up on the table, and Clockblocker closed his computer, setting it aside to make room. The previous night, they'd signed the necessary paperwork and then gone to bed, since it was almost ten o'clock. Now, finally, they'd be able to get some details on Coil.

Vista had taken the first night watch before going home, and had spent her shift printing out all the records the PRT had on Coil and manually redacting anything they didn't want Tattletale to know, mostly details about the powers of the heroes he'd faced. He picked them up off the chair on his other side and set them on the table, pushing them toward Tattletale.

Cautiously, she reached out and flipped the first folder open. Then her eyes widened and she smiled that fox-like grin which all girls seemed to naturally master and which frankly, had never yet failed to raise the hairs on his neck. Even Vista had her own version of it, and it never ended well for her enemies.

"Now this, we can work with," Tattletale murmured.

"For your sake, I hope so," Clockblocker reminded her. Tattletale glanced up to catch his eye, saw his seriousness and sincerity, and nodded.

"I am sorry about what I said."

Clockblocker nodded, but didn't say he forgave her. Truth be told, he didn't. It wasn't that he hadn't said his own fair share of stupid stuff in his lifetime; he had. In fact, he'd made the exact same mistake when he demanded favors from Contract without understanding the toll it would take. It was just that Contract was his teammate, and he didn't want to forgive Tattletale for attacking her, so he wouldn't.

He might have to be more mature now, but no one said he had to be _perfect_.

* * *

Clockblocker and Tattletale spent hours together pouring over everything they knew about Coil, and compiling everything that Tattletale's power could provide. By lunchtime, she was complaining about a thinker headache, but a reminder that this was her life potentially on the line shut down her whining.

Still, Clockblocker did take the opportunity to have them stop, eat lunch, and work on summarizing what they knew for the other Wards. As agreed, the rest of the team suited up on their way back to the base so they could enter as an impressive, united front, and Intrepid left Winslow early in order to arrive with the others when they finished their normal half-day of classes. Taylor, as Beetle, had hung around the base all day, covering some of the Wards' allotment of console hours and generally trying to pretend she wasn't Taylor by being stiff and distant from Tattletale.

Clockblocker was 99% sure that the whole secret identities thing was a bust, but Beetle was also able to use the time to do a lot more weaving, so he didn't say anything. She had finished her own costume around the same time as "that night" and was a good portion of the way through a protective skin-tight shirt for Contract, which she could wear in place of or under her normal costume.

Clockblocker had changed into his full gear as soon as Beetle was awake and on console, and had taken the opportunity to grab a thirty minute nap as well. He'd texted Contract when he woke up, and several times thereafter, but all he'd gotten back in reply were colon-parenthese smiley faces, which were Contract-standard for "I saw this, but I'm not replying to you, but I am replying to you so that you don't send out a search party," and actually conveyed nothing about her mood. He assumed she wasn't still in the gym, but he didn't intrude on her privacy by trying to verify.

Despite this non-interaction, she emerged from the elevator with the rest of the team, murmuring to Intrepid too quietly for Clockblocker to catch it. She took the seat at the table furthest from Tattletale, even though it wasn't the best tactical position for her see the map from.

Tattletale's earlier jab must have bothered her more than he'd realized, but there was no time to deal with that now.

"Alright team, we've got good news." He stood up and swept his hand over the map, which was marked with a variety of color-coded dots. "We found Coil's base."

"Really?" Vista asked, leaning forward eagerly as the others murmured.

"Tattletale was able to use the pattern of his past crimes to isolate two comfort zones. One is his house, the other his base of operations." Clockblocker pointed to the two yellow shapes, one among the better neighborhoods of Brockton Bay and the other in the developing industrial zone. "Coil's base is here," he touched the black circle in the second section of highlighting. "One of his front companies is building this skyscraper, and he's got himself set up underneath it."

"Based on his past crimes and what he's told me," Tattletale volunteered, "he's got about fifty thugs on his payroll, but only ten to twenty of them are on duty at any one time unless he's actively planning or executing a crime."

"We still don't know anything specific about his powers," Clockblocker told his team before they got too excited, "but we do know he can use it to help and protect others, as he has used it to benefit the Undersiders in the past."

"Can we get into the base?" Vista asked.

"Unknown," Clockblocker admitted. She nodded grimly.

"I'd assume not," Contract said. "His men carry tinker-tech weapons, I can't imagine he uses less security for his own lair. What about some sort of scam or con? Can Tattletale bring one of us in under false pretenses?"

"It would have to be you or Beetle," Intrepid answered immediately. "Everyone else is an established Ward. And I don't like either option. We're much stronger as a team."

"What if it was both of us?" Beetle asked. "We could run with a basically true story. Tattletale spots us in civilian garb, gets close to me, and I take her in to talk to Contract. We pretend dissatisfaction with the PRT, which wouldn't be hard for either of us to fake. Tattletale can even say it was obvious enough for her pick up on it."

Clockblocker immediately knew that Beetle was referring to Shadow Stalker and her trigger event. It really wasn't a far-fetched story. If Shadow Stalker hadn't been taken down by Contract and then prosecuted so swiftly by Dragon, it might have even become the truth. Contract was tied to the team now, by the experiences they'd had together, but a month ago he was pretty sure that she would have gladly jumped ship, and he didn't want to think what Beetle might have done if she'd learned her tormentor was a Ward before they'd gotten a handle on the situation. Clockblocker couldn't imagine what his reaction would have been if that little Asian shit who'd made him trigger had actually been a government-sanctioned hero.

"You're still two very fresh capes," Kid Win hedged. "I don't like the idea of letting you walk into danger without us."

"Not for long, just until you guys can bust through the protections and join us," Beetle protested.

"Even better, we might be able to draw him into the open," Contract mused. "If I was a criminal mastermind, I'd meet eager new recruits at a secondary site, not my main base."

She glanced at Tattletale, who joined the conversation reluctantly. Clockblocker had told her to keep quiet unless she had facts to contribute, at least until the initial brainstorming was out of the way. The team still distrusted her to various stages, and he didn't want her messing with their dynamic. He gave Tattletale a tiny nod before she spoke. "I don't think Coil's base is actually finished yet, and he's too much of a control freak to let new recruits see half-finished work. Otherwise he would have used the base to impress the other Undersiders."

Contract nodded. "So we can draw him out. In that case, the only thing about this that I don't like is Coil's power. We don't know how it operates, but he's never been caught before and neither have the Undersiders, who have his protection."

"He's never been worth the effort," Gallant reminded her. Clockblocker sat back and let them talk, bouncing ideas back and forth off of each other. He'd been hip-deep in this all day; it was time for some new perspectives.

Contract tipped her head, acknowledging the point, but didn't verbally respond. It was Kid Win who took up the conversation. "I could try to come up with something that would disable other tinker-tech, but I'd need a lot more time. By the time I came up with anything, we'd be well past the case's unseal date."

Beetle sighed. "If we could find him around Brockton Bay somewhere I could tag him and follow him, but if he keeps so quiet then we could be waiting too long, as Kid Win said."

"Well, we know where he lives," Contract said, gesturing to the yellow oval that Tattletale had identified as containing his house.

Clockblocker wasn't the only cape that stiffened at that, opening his mouth to protest about the unwritten rules, but Contract continued, "I'm not saying we use the information against him. Not directly. But he's gone after Tattletale when she was out of mask, and from what she's not saying I'm assuming the other Undersiders as well. I'd feel a lot better if we knew who this guy was. What he's done with his civilian life. Get a more complete profile."

Vista was shaking her head vigorously. "We can't. We absolutely can't. If word ever got out, in the slightest, that heroes were looking for villain's identities, you'd be putting hundreds of families at risk. Our families especially."

Clockblocker had to swallow twice to get past the lump in his throat. "She's right. We can't."

Contract met his gaze, or so he assumed behind her mask, then glanced around the table. Her gaze seemed to linger slightly on Tattletale, then she met Intrepid's gaze and her head drop in shame. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize the severity of the cape code."

Clockblocker felt his breath rush out of him in relief and didn't even try to control it. He'd been reluctant to even allow Tattletale to do the physical profiling that she had, but it had been necessary to figure out which of Coil's properties he might be using.

Tattletale had been to one location, which turned out to be a temporary set up. They'd needed a physical profile to find his main base, and that by necessity had to include Coil's civilian home, but that was as far as Clockblocker was willing to go.

They brainstormed a while longer, but the basic fact was that they were working under a time limit because Coil could call Lisa at any time and she wasn't confident in her ability to lie to him. Additionally, what little they knew about Coil's power suggested that their best chance of success rested on initiating contact.

After hours of discussion, they had generated and discarded what felt like a hundred ideas. Tattletale had proven extremely valuable in demonstrating the plans' flaws, which was frustrating but necessary.

Clockblocker was glad he'd taken to time to reassure her about the security of the Wards' base. Although housed in the same building as the PRT, they had totally separate security and surveillance systems, and as a maskless zone the area was regularly checked for outside eavesdropping. Once he'd explained that to her, she'd been much more free with her information.

In the end, the Wards had come back to the very first plan, such as it was. Lisa would present Beetle and Contract to Coil, and go from there.

Clockblocker had come to the point where he actually did believe Tattletale, but that didn't mean he was willing to risk his teammates lives to save hers. She had chosen to be a villain, and that wasn't their problem. If it wasn't for Coil's PRT spies, he'd have been tempted to tell her there was nothing more they could do.

Thankfully, that decision wasn't his, it was Armsmaster's.

* * *

"You want to what?"

All things considered, Clockblocker thought his boss was taking this whole thing very well. He and Contract had been nominated to go explain the situation to Armsmaster and get his approval, Clockblocker as team leader and Contract as Armsmaster's… legal ward and the plan's biggest proponent.

Armsmaster had listened closely, then issued his demand in a quiet, if stressed, tone.

"It makes sense." Contract said, perfectly calm. In this case, not being able to hear the incredulity in Armsmaster's voice might end up working in her favor. "The Wookie Prisoner con might be the oldest one in the book, but that's because it's a good con. We contact him, we set the time, we control the meet. No big deal." Contract shrugged, for all the world genuinely unconcerned, and maybe it wasn't such a good thing that she was having trouble reading Armsmaster.

 _He_ was far from unconcerned. "No big deal?" he repeated slowly. Clockblocker couldn't tell if he was impressed, further upset, or incredulous, but he certainly wasn't calm.

Contract opened her mouth, then a thoughtful expression flicked over her face for just a moment, before she apparently changed whatever she had been planning to say. "I am confident in my ability to survive this encounter, and to bring my teammates through it safely. At worst, we will have to retreat and cost ourselves the element of surprise, which we won't have for much longer anyway. It's the best we can do right now."

Armsmaster pursed his lips, then turned to Clockblocker. "You agree with this assessment?"

Clockblocker shrugged and raised his hands helplessly. "It really comes down to whether Coil is a credible threat. If he is, then he's a bomb waiting to blow up in our faces and this is as good a course of action as any. If he's not, we'll be giving a golden opportunity to a B-rate villain and taking a lot of risk for nothing."

Armsmaster nodded thoughtfully. "Are you as confident in the Wards' ability to retreat, if it becomes necessary?"

"Yes," Clockblocker admitted, "I am." Mostly, he trusted Contract's confidence, knowing that she probably had a dozen tricks up her sleeve. If Clockblocker had been kidnapped, his first priority would be to make sure it couldn't happen again. Although they hadn't discussed it outright, he was pretty sure Contract had some sort of worst-case contingency. He made a note to get confirmation of that before the mission went down.

"Then I'll authorize this, for execution the day after tomorrow." Contract opened her mouth to protest, no doubt wanting to argue for a faster timeline, but Armsmaster didn't pause for her objection.

"I want the Wards to go to school as normal, but spend all other hours continuing investigation and research. Look for any contradictions or holes. Anything at all that could show we've made a poor assumption."

"Yes, sir," Clockblocker agreed, feeling more comfortable already with that decision made.

Contract swallowed twice, visibly, before she stood just a touch straighter and nodded sharply. "Yessir. Permission to begin immediately?"

Armsmaster nodded, and Contract turned on her heel and swept out of the room. Armsmaster jerked his chin in her direction, and Clockblocker hurried to catch up.

When he did so, he realized that she wasn't angry, not exactly. Oh, she wasn't happy about the delay either, but she seemed more stubbornly determined than anything else.

"We good?" Clockblocker asked her as they waited for the elevator, mostly for the purpose of having something to say.

"Fine," she said shortly. He leaned over a bit to try to see her face and she sighed, the stiffness going out of her posture. "I don't like giving my enemies time to prepare. I guess I'm not used to being a Ward yet."

"It's been two days, and Coil doesn't know we're coming," Clockblocker prompted cautiously. Really, for an investigation, even an expedited and covert investigation, things had been flying along pretty fast.

"I guess." She raised a hand to rub her forehead. "I just remembered I have to go talk to PR. Catch you later?" Clockblocker shrugged as the elevator dinged for him. She waved him in, and headed for the stairs, since the administrative floor was above the tinker labs and the Wards' base was below.

Clockblocker shook his head as he stepped into the elevator. Heaven help anyone in PR who tried to tell Contract what to do today.


	38. Living in Interesting Times

**Author's Note:** This chapter contains details on a trigger event and accompanying gore. It pushes the T story rating, but should still qualify.

 **Chapter Thirty-Something: Living in interesting times  
** AKA: How to play nice with effing bureaucracy lesson number whatever: When told not to climb the mountain, go under it. And hope it doesn't turn out to be a dragon.

 **20 days post Ash's death. 66 days post NYC.  
** **(April 7, 2011)**

Phoenix took the stairs at double time as she always did; it was good exercise and there was no point in wasting time. She took the door to the fourth floor, then walked over to the PR department. Sherrell Manning, the senior Brockton Bay PR liaison, looked up at her in surprise. Phoenix did not, in fact, have any previous engagement on the fourth floor.

"Hey Sherrell, has Glenn sent over the latest version of my jacket yet?" Phoenix knew full well that he hadn't, since she'd argued against the need for one and he'd agreed, as long as she wore the undershirt that Taylor should be finishing soon. Brockton Bay was practically balmy this time of year, and it would get hotter come summer.

 _Female: Not yet. I can email you when it comes in if you like?_

Phoenix watched Sherrell's face as the words superimposed themselves on the bottom of reality, like scrolling subtitles. The visor was so clear that when the display was blank it was like it wasn't there. Phoenix was still getting used to the translation software, even after two weeks.

She offered Sherrell a big smile, leaning on the edge of her cube. Sherrell was a nice woman, older, with hair that was either still dark or dyed to be so. Phoenix liked her. "Thanks. I'd like to shoot it down as soon as possible."

That made Sherrell laugh. For a PR pencil-pusher, she was extremely sympathetic to Phoenix's issues with her costume and image.

 _Female: [laughter] Of course. Need anything else?_

Phoenix made a show of grimacing. "I don't suppose there's a computer up here I could use? I've got these stupid lectures I've got to watch and Vista and Beetle are going on and on about girl junk."

Sherrell smiled honestly, which would have made Phoenix feel bad about lying except that she wasn't hurting anyone.

 _Female: Cami is out on maternity leave, you could use her desk._

Bingo. "Thanks." Phoenix stood up, then glanced down at the wall of Sherrell's cube, where a document hung pinned. She pointed to it at the last moment, like she was just noticing it. "Oh, is this a phone directory? Where can I find one of these? I hate using the stupid online lookup, I can never guess how to spell people's names."

Sherrell smiled again, her soft grandmotherly smile, and leaned in. Phoenix leaned in too, assuming that Sherrell was whispering, although the software didn't tell her so. It wasn't perfect.

 _Female: I hate it too. Take that copy, I'll print out another for myself. I keep an up-to-date record for my own use._

Phoenix returned Sherrell's conspiratorial grin, then snagged the papers and walked over to Cami's desk. She'd seen the directory hanging there before, and had suspected it wasn't a general-use document for pretty much the very same reason that Phoenix wanted it: it was a complete list of every current PRT employee, in one convenient place.

Cami worked in Human Resources, and she was one of the newer hires, which meant that she dealt with silly tasks like double-checking that vacation taken actually got reported and that overtime wasn't over-estimated by desk employees who didn't punch in or out. Phoenix knew this because before Cami had left for maternity leave, she'd spent an hour each day in the gym supposedly doing yoga and actually bitching about constantly having to pull employee files.

Phoenix sat down at Cami's desk and woke up the computer. Like all PRT computers, it opened to a login screen, and like most employees, Cami's username automatically filled itself in. All that Phoenix had to do was guess Cami's four digit pin and she was in.

In this case, the PRT's need for security actually worked to their disadvantage. Certain types of files, including employee files, required those accessing the files to re-type their pin before opening them. This meant that Cami had typed her pin a hundred times a day, and had completely worn the ink off the 1 key, the 7 key, and the 9 key. One repeated digit. The first and obvious guesses were 1997, 1977, or 1971 since years were the most often-used pins. There were no pictures on the desk, so Contract took a guess and tried 1971 since it was the oldest year. No dice. 1997, however, prompted a successful login.

 _[Computer noise]_

The software caught the login's bee-boop, which reminded Phoenix to mute the computer. She also casually opened a couple programs, just to give herself a task to do, and only then gave a very brief glance up at the wall clock, using the motion to scan the area. No one was was paying her the least attention.

With that in mind, Phoenix slid off her visor, pulled out a set of headphones, and hunkered down to work. With the visor sitting next to her on the chair, and the subtly of her costume, there was a good chance anyone walking by wouldn't even notice her. While the PRT had the advantage over regular civilians in that they knew what her costume looked like at any given time, she knew that it was the visor that was really becoming the face of her hero-self. Without the visor, and sitting in a place she wasn't expected to be, she felt she had pretty good odds to avoid being noticed. The headphones would give her an excuse for why it make take her a while to notice anyone trying to talk to her, and then she'd have to hope she could read their lips.

Armsmaster wanted research, did he? Situation not urgent enough? Well, that was his call. She would just have to give him evidence of a little urgency. For Armsmaster, that probably meant proving that Coil had spies in the PRT, and figuring out who they were.

Contract herself wasn't too worried about Coil's spies. The subset of people who were capable of telling Coil that one of his toadies had come running to the PRT was much larger than the subset of people who could actually do appreciable damage to the Wards' actions against Coil, when they didn't know to be on the alert. Just because _Lisa_ might be in danger from Coil's spies didn't actually mean that they were all that highly placed or that they reported to him regularly. But Contract had a feeling that putting names in front of Armsmaster would speed this thing along. She was getting antsy waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Even if Coil's spies weren't placed sufficiently to spy on the Wards with regularity, however, there was still a certain degree of risk in what she was currently doing. Using Cami's account, which constantly did the same sort of searches Phoenix needed, should keep any computer flags from raising, but she still wanted to be in and out as fast and as anonymously as possible.

Phoenix started with the hand-written list she'd been compiling since the previous evening, detailing every time that they knew Coil's exact whereabouts and what he had been doing. The first twenty entries were all crimes pulled from his file, and by Phoenix's logic, they might be able to help her narrow down Coil's spies.

If she was a criminal mastermind, she'd be sure to have all of her spies working any time she was committing a crime. For one, it would position them to help her in case of absolute emergency. Two, it would give them iron-clad alibis. Three, it was less suspicious than them being absent, since statistically most people were working during the majority of the times Coil had committed his crimes.

Since general searches would be suspicious from Cami's user account, Phoenix would have to do this the hard way. She pulled up the payroll records for the date of Coil's first public crime, then took the directory and crossed out the names of everyone who had been absent that day. This would leave her with hundreds of suspects, probably more still on the list than she eliminated, but it was somewhere to start at least.

Avery, Jonathon

Calvert, Thomas

Richard, Kelvin

Thompson, Rogers

Thompson, Kyle

She marked off the names, then searched the next date.

There were flaws with this method, of course. The directory only contained the current employees (Thompson, Kyle was evidently not working for the PRT any longer) and there was every chance that Coil wouldn't follow the same train of logic, requiring his spies to work as she would have. But she needed to be doing something, and it couldn't really hurt.

The second date was a Saturday, so it was easier to list who _had_ been at work. After consideration, she decided to discount that day's data and not cross off any names. The third crime happened at night, but the fourth was another day-time robbery. Seven people had been absent from work, but Thomas Calvert was a repeat absentee so she only eliminated six new names.

She hesitated on the next crime's date, when the number of not-at-work employees jumped dramatically. Reading a few of their files made the problem obvious: crime in Brockton Bay had risen to the point that more PRT response squads were formed, and they worked on a rotating basis. So did she count the employees who weren't supposed to be working anyway as absent? Eventually, she decided to mark their names, but not eliminate them entirely.

She got through ten crimes before she noticed it, but didn't really believe it until she'd finished the list. Thomas Calvert had been absent during the commission of every single crime. It could be a coincidence. With three exceptions, Calvert hadn't been _scheduled_ to work during the commission of the crimes. Three absences in ten years was not unusual. He had perfectly logical reasons not to be at work those days. She was being paranoid.

She still input the date and time that Lisa reported being kidnapped and taken to Coil the first time. Thomas Calvert had taken a long lunch.

When Lisa had reluctantly agreed to a second meeting, Thomas Calvert had been off-duty.

Lisa had reported one meeting with Coil when he seemed to be holding himself stiffly. Thomas Calvert had not only been absent from work, he'd been absent due to medical leave after his unit had a close encounter with the Empire.

Phoenix pulled up Calvert's actual file. There weren't many details that were accessible to someone with Cami's level of clearance, but there was enough to get a sketch. Calvert was a hero, but one quietly hailed, because he was one of the few survivors of Nilbog. The vagueness told her it had not been pretty, and Calvert had been put on administrative and medical leave afterward. Since then, he'd worked his way up to a tactical squad leader, and there was a chance he'd end up as a deputy director or regional director before he retired.

Phoenix sat at the desk, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply for a few moments. Did she actually believe that Coil was a PRT squad captain? It was too ridiculous to be real. She trusted the PRT as little as she trusted any bureaucracy, but there was line between caution and conspiracy theorist. Believing that a villain had been hiding in the PRT for years crossed that line; it had to.

There were medical scans that could prove if someone was a parahuman, or had the potential to trigger. No one liked to talk about it, but it existed. Surely the PRT required those tests as part of the annual physical to check for drugs or other issues? Their entire purpose revolved around holding parahumans accountable to the rest of humanity.

 _Right,_ sneered the voice in her head that sounded like Josh, _because an organization founded by Alexandria would really be concerned about parahumans hiding in plain sight._

When Ash had uncovered the fact that Alexandria was PRT Director Rebecca Costa-Brown, they'd had a long discussion about what that might mean. She and Ash had eventually decided that Alexandria was probably just an ambitious parahuman, perhaps even afraid of what the government would have done if she _didn't_ propose the PRT. With everything else that was going on, Phoenix had forgotten to reevaluate that assumption in the face of the knowledge that Alexandria was one of Clyde's- Mordor's - pawns.

She wanted to laugh at the fact that no matter how paranoid she had Ash had thought themselves, they hadn't been nearly paranoid enough. They'd blamed a lot on Clyde, but they'd never thought that he and his organization might be responsible for the Triumvirate and the Protectorate.

The realization made her struggle with the sudden lump in her throat. It killed her that she couldn't just call Ash and tell him to thicken his tinfoil hat and know, with certainty, that he would understand that the game was bigger than they'd imagined. She counted softly in her head, refusing to either laugh or sob when it might compromise her position.

She had to be certain. Screw the unwritten rules, and screw -

her brain tripped over itself, her fingers halfway through the command to display Calvert's address

\- did Clockblocker know? Did Armsmaster? Was it an unspoken, unofficial secret that the PRT was populated by parahumans? They didn't know about Coil, specifically, she was sure. They hadn't been at all cautious to investigate him. But did they know that there were others? For surely there had to be.

If the head of the organization was a parahuman, and the head a local PRT squad was a parahuman, then there had to be others. Her life was cursed, yes, she knew that. But she couldn't be (un)lucky enough to be the only one to have found the only two parahumans in the PRT. That… that was beyond plot armor and straight into being set-up for something.

Shit, was she being set up?

By who?

No, stop, don't go down that rabbit hole, don't escalate, don't… just… don't.

Breathe.

Breathe.

 _Picture a candle,_ Ash always told her when he was trying to teach her to meditate. Phoenix didn't have much experience with candles, but she was intimately familiar with the flames of a funeral pyre as they burned away all evidence of any number of supernatural threats. As morbid as it was, she could picture burning bodies with perfect clarity, could see the flick-lick-flick of the flames. She calmed herself by matching her breathing to the imaginary crackling of burning flesh. What would Dr. Yamada Yamada make of that, she wondered?

The morbid humor finally did the trick, and broke the rage that had been battling against her reach for serenity.

Breathe. She trusted Colin. The idea of him lying to her about this… She didn't want to believe it. Actually, the more the thought about it the more she realized, she _didn't_ believe it. She could see the Triumvirate, or even Miss Militia following a party line like this but Armsmaster? No. She wanted to confront him only to _confirm_ that her trust was well placed. Well, that and to get his help in dealing with the situation. She wanted his judgment and his backup. The same things were true to a lesser extent when it came to Clockblocker.

But those were personal concerns, and any larger conspiracy in the PRT would have to wait. Her first priority had to be Coil. He was the active threat. Would telling them that Coil was Thomas Calvert help the situation or be a distraction? Armsmaster wouldn't let this new knowledge interfere with the investigation, but Clockblocker might.

It would look like she'd gone searching for Coil's identity after he forbid her to do so, and that she'd gone looking in the PRT. He might believe her protests otherwise, but he also might not, especially if he thought this endangered his family, his dad. She would keep the information to herself, for now. A secret could always be told, but anything that had been said couldn't be unsaid. And really, she might be wrong anyway. It still felt too fantastic to actually be real.

She needed to try to verify her suspicions, just in case. With hands that she forced to be rock-steady, she returned to her earlier course of action and pulled up his address. It was within the geographical profile. His file also listed his height and weight, which matched Coil's basic physical description. It wasn't impossible that she was wrong, but it was growing more and more unlikely. Soon, it would be a question of whether conspiracy or coincidence was _more_ improbable.

So what did this mean for her team? Phoenix pulled up Calvert's current timesheet. He was at work today, and was scheduled for regular hours on Friday and Saturday too. Good. That lowered the chances that he was planning anything too dangerous in the next couple of days. It also meant that if she insisted on meeting him on Saturday at lunchtime, it would at the least be an inconvenience for him to get away from his unit when he was supposed to be on standby for any hot calls.

After another moment, however brief, to try to collect herself, Phoenix logged off of Cami's account. She took off her headphones, and glanced at the clock again. No one was paying her any attention. She slipped the visor back on and stood up, wandering back to talk to Sherrell. It had been just over an hour, long enough to have watched a video as she said.

"Hey, Sherrell," Phoenix said, knowing that her voice was chipper and friendly even though she couldn't hear it. Sometimes it felt like she had more practice being fake-happy than real-happy, and she knew the performance would be flawless. "Thanks for the help." She lifted the phone directory in a silent salute, rolled so that Sherrell couldn't see the marks she'd made.

 _Female: Of course, sweetheart. Let me know if I can do anything else._

"Sure. Have a good Thursday," Phoenix said, striding away in her "I dare you to stop me" walk, which she was slowly starting to think of as her "I am a hero" walk. Most likely, no one in Cami's area would remember her coming by, and the people between Sherrell and the stairs would only have a brief impression of someone important.

Phoenix took the stairs at double time like always, mind whirling through everything she needed to do. She and Jason had gone over the places where Lisa and Taylor had crossed paths, looking for any sign of the supernatural just in case Lisa was something using the Wards to get to Phoenix, though he didn't know that's what they'd been doing. She'd found nothing.

Tattletale was most likely on the up-and-up, and as best as Phoenix and Armsmaster's software could tell, she hadn't out-right lied to the Wards so far. In fact, after what she'd found about Coil, Phoenix was more convinced than ever that the girl was sincere about helping them take down Calvert, though doubtless for her own good and not theirs.

She itched to go to Calvert's house and look for evidence of the supernatural, but she knew it would be useless. It's what she would have done 67 days ago, before Behemoth, and so her instincts screamed for her to do so now, but instincts weren't always reliable. The chances of finding anything supernatural in Brockton Bay were exceedingly slim. Whether it was the large concentration of capes, the control of the gangs, the population density or some other factor, supernatural creatures tended to avoid Brockton Bay like most people avoided haunted houses, even more than they avoided New York City or Los Angeles.

Brooks even had a theory that there was some sort of time-manipulator in Brockton Bay, no matter what the tests said, since supernaturals were more sensitive to small folds and ripples than humans were and would naturally tend to leave an area that rubbed their subconscious like sand paper. Contract didn't buy that, for a number of reasons, but the why wasn't relevant, not really.

She hit the lobby level of the stairs and without breaking step she stalked over to the elevator with Wards' access and rode it down to the base.

That point was that Coil was almost certainly cape. Unless he was just a human pretending to be parahuman, using his PRT access, information, contacts, and training to pretend to be powered and hiring other non-powered mercs to hide the fact… no, that theory was unnecessarily complex. If nothing else, Lisa should have been able to tell if that was the case.

Speaking of, the elevator opened on Tattletale sitting grumpily at the table, while Clockblocker worked on his laptop and Vista and Beetle dominated the console, murmuring quietly enough to each other that her visor didn't register the noise. Kid Win was probably in his lab, and since her schedule said she was supposed to be sparring with Intrepid and Gallant, those two were most likely in the gym. Phoenix had intended to drop by her room, change clothes, put the notes aside to be burnt later, and head to the gym, but Tattletale caught her eye.

Everything about her posture said that she'd been benched and wasn't pleased about it. Well, Phoenix shared her frustration. So she strode over and sat purposefully in the chair next to Tattletale, turning it to look at her, and putting her back to the rest of the room. The brief pause in all the typing and murmuring, which her visor registered as _[sudden silence]_ was not discreet, but Phoenix didn't blame them for being curious.

She hadn't been particularly warm to Tattletale since her shot about killing Coil. Phoenix knew the cold shoulder she'd given Tattletale was an overreaction, which was probably part of why she'd sat down. Great, now Phoenix was psychoanalysing herself.

Tattletale eyed her warily, and Phoenix felt a predatory grin on her face that she didn't try to suppress. What could Tattletale read off her? Any of her siblings would have known that she was upset by the simple fact that both feet were still planted on the floor.

Brooks would have noticed the papers folded and stuck in her back pocket, and might have been able to guess that she'd found something she didn't like while poking through official sources. Danny would have read her suppressed anger in a heartbeat - they were two of kind when it came to wanting to prove themselves to those in authority - and Josh would have known she was chaffing for action. Ash would have known it all. How much of that could Tattletale read?

The villain in question was still silent, waiting for Phoenix to speak first, but Phoenix just kept surveying her, not having anything in particular she wanted to say. She'd sat down on a whim, in a sense of shared confinement and perhaps a bit of eagerness for verbal sparring, but this wasn't a teammate or a sibling or a fellow hunter. This was a dangerous opponent, even if they happened to be temporarily aligned. Phoenix had a lot of experience with that kind of relationship.

That thought alone was enough of an invitation, too close to the things she tried not to consider and she saw Trickster settle on the table behind Tattletale, his feet resting on the arm of her chair, insubstantial to the rest of the world.

Even though she'd closed off the contract with Behemoth, trusting Eidolon to deal with him as he had the other Endbringers, Trickster had enough of a hold to present himself to her on the slightest of openings. She'd held out for 62 days without caving, never once letting him affect the physical world and never once releasing Behemoth, but it had been a terrible struggle to be unable to banish him. He'd whispered, he'd cajoled, he'd joked and lied and told the truth, tempted and tested her will, helped her according to his manipulative whims.

But she didn't have to let him anymore.

She focused on Lisa, on the color of her hair which was surely a dye job, and on the clothes she was wearing. Expensive, if not flashy. Whatever changes Lisa wanted to make to her world, she wasn't shy about spending ill-gotten gains. Not that Phoenix had a lot of moral high ground in that particular area.

In her peripheral vision, Trickster stuck his tongue out and vanished, knowing he'd get nothing from her right now. She was pissed enough that he didn't want to be a ready target, which was smart of him. If he pushed her in a mood like this, she was liable to do him actual damage, no matter what help he'd been in the past or might be in the future.

"Tell me about Coil," Phoenix heard herself saying, and wretched her thoughts back onto Tattletale. What would the thinker say if her power informed her that the Ender could see interdimensional entities? Was her thinker power strong enough to intuit the reasons? Could she read the first stupid contract that Phoenix had ever made as clearly Ash once had?

 _TT: I already have._

Lisa looked at the floor as she said it, so she was still feeling defensive. Well, Phoenix was pretty upset, no matter how she tried to force her anger to look like confidence. She needed to distract herself.

"Have you ever seen him hold a gun?" Phoenix asked. Lisa nodded. "How does he hold it?"

 _TT: Confidently, in one hand. He's used it before_

"Any idea how old he is?"

Lisa shrugged, thinking about it. Phoenix couldn't tell if she was figuring out the answer, or deciding to whether to tell the Wards information she'd already known.

 _TT: He's patient, so older than 35, but physically fit enough to be younger than 50._

Well, that was two more marks next to Coil is Thomas Calvert. Neither were definitive, of course, but neither refuted the idea either. This was not helping her mood. "Have you ever used a gun?"

The non-sequitur made Lisa look up and meet Phoenix's eyes through the visor.

 _TT: Never to kill. But I have shot one before._

"Did you hit what you aimed at?"

 _TT: I shot until I could._

"Ever fought hand-to-hand?"

Lisa shook her head. Phoenix had guessed that her skills were about what she just reported, but it would make her a liability in a fight and Phoenix didn't like liabilities. There wasn't time to teach her anything useful against the kind of people that Coil put into the field. Giving her a knife would probably make her just as dangerous to herself as to others. The PRT would never give her a gun. A taser? Maybe. If Clockblocker decided that he trusted her.

For now, she'd just mark Lisa as "civilian" and know she'd have to watch out for her. How disappointing.

"How good are you at computer hacking?"

Lisa eyed her for a moment before the subtitle appeared. Her facial expression said that she thought Phoenix was dumb, crazy, or both.

 _TT: I'm not going to incriminate myself._

Phoenix rolled her eyes. "Not like that. Coil's got mercs in his base, right? Well, if you were a criminal mastermind, would you trust the hired muscle to run around your tinker-base while you were sleeping?" Or working a full time job for that matter? If Coil _was_ Thomas Calvert, then he was a control freak, according to his psych profiles. "There's no way his base isn't under surveillance. Might be hardwired out, but what if it's on a protected broadcast, instead? Could you get in?"

Hardwire was safer, but it limited where Coil could monitor his people from. There might be a hardline connection in his home, but there wouldn't be one here in the PRT. Coil had to have at least some access from his phone, right? It only made sense. Assuming that Coil was Calvert.

Lisa was looking thoughtful now.

 _TT: Maybe. The problem would be finding the right signal. There's a lot of protected traffic in the area of his base, and most of it's legit. It's protected to guard intellectual property rights._

"But we know Coil has spies in the PRT. Can you look for any traffic between the PRT and that part of downtown?"

 _TT: I could try. If I was allowed a computer._

At this, Lisa sent a poisonous glance at Clockblocker. On one hand, keeping the powerful thinker away from the internet inside the Wards' base was a good idea, since it would put her inside several firewalls and would potentially give her access to other confidential information. On the other hand, it was inconvenient. Well, laid out like that, Clockblocker was clearly doing the right thing. Too bad.

"Thanks anyway." Phoenix stood up and went to her bunk so she could change into exercise clothes and go catch up with the boys. She could use a good sparring match.

Maybe she'd start with a regular punching bag though, to blow off her steam before she hurt anyone.

* * *

When she got to the gym, she found Isabelle Gomez and her squad team also using the facility, which made her grin. Isabelle was an ex-marine, still in her physical prime, and a general hardass. She was, in fact, quite possibly the toughest woman Phoenix had ever known, including Ellis. The bartender might have been able to take Izz once... if she'd had the element of surprise and a twin sister to help her.

More importantly, Izz was always willing to spar with Phoenix. The soldier's superior size, decades of experience, and daily job meant that Phoenix yielded two times out of three on a good day. That kind of challenge was exactly what she needed right now.

Gallant waved to Phoenix as she came in, and Intrepid used the distraction to drop him on his back. Intrepid then offered a nod of his own, but didn't try to approach as Phoenix bee-lined for her target. Gallant certainly could see her morass of emotions, and she wouldn't be surprised if Intrepid could tell something was off too. Fortunately, Gallant tended to assume everything she felt was related to Ash, which, to be fair, was about 70% true, and Intrepid never pushed her anyway.

Izz clearly read her anger also, but Phoenix's emotional health was not her concern and they both knew it. So Phoenix waited, poised, while Izz gave her people one last glance. When she was satisfied with what she saw, she turned and lashed out in one even motion. Phoenix deflected the hit with the palm of her hand, already backing toward the practice mats, trying to use the motion to turn Izz into the retreating position, which of course Izz didn't fall for.

The rhythm of the fight came to Phoenix naturally, almost as calming as Ash's flame trick. When your opponent swings like that, you jab and duck like this, and when they counter as so you kick right here. Damn. She was fast enough, but her shorter leg meant that she tapped Izz's hip instead of a solid connection.

Phoenix didn't resist when Izz grabbed her foot, instead using her hands as a cushion and spring, rotating her whole body, but Izz just let her go and Phoenix ended up rolling to her feet, neatly backed into the corner.

Within another sixty seconds it was over. Phoenix was pinned, and she yielded rather than sprain something trying to escape from Izz with a move that she'd already failed to execute in the past. Then came another round, and another yield. Another round, and another yield. Again. And again.

Her telekinesis, which she was just getting the hang of, was nowhere to be seen today, and although Phoenix didn't really need her precognition with one opponent, it was on the fritz too. She kept getting danger warnings that were too loud, or a second earlier or later than she expected, or none at all which scared her the most. She did not need a faulty precog power in the field.

After half an hour she was panting hard, looking up at Izz, who was breathing heavy but not that heavy and still looking pretty fresh. This time, Izz offered her a hand up from the mat and Phoenix took it, then stood and stretched out her muscles while she tried to catch her breath.

 _Izz: Something you wanna talk about?_

"Would I be here if I did?" Phoenix shot back. In the back of her mind, her anger stewed along with a growing but directionless anxiety, which she knew wasn't helping her "Jedi" powers.

The stupid visor had enough memory to recognize twenty voices. What did it say that her cast of characters was small enough that her part-time sparring acquaintance was on the list? She'd even put Ash's voice print into the program in a fit of melancholy and self-pity. Six Wards, her own voice so it didn't caption herself, Armsmaster, Miss Militia, Piggot, Renick, Ash, Izz, the Triumvirate, and four empty slots she used for temporary and rotating needs, like Tattletale. She'd have to see if there was an audio sample from Coil or Calvert on file. Heh. Not only could she not name twenty allies, she actually prioritized the voices of her enemies just in case.

Izz shrugged, not pushing the subject, but not re-engaging either. Phoenix glanced away and then back, weighing her response. Izz wanted something from her, to make sure that Phoenix wasn't in a headspace that would be dangerous to continue fighting in, and she was more stubborn than Phoenix was patient, at the moment.

"Life can really suck," Phoenix finally said. "Sometimes you get to change it. Today, I get to ride it out."

That was enough for Izz to shrug and raise her hands, and Phoenix took a deep breath, letting it leave her body slowly and take her frustration and her confusion with it. Just focus. Izz and nothing else. A twitch in Izz's shoulders and Phoenix lunged to the left, dodging the lightning-fast strike and setting herself up for a kidney punch, which Izz evaded. Game on.

They put in four more matches, including one paltry victory for Phoenix, before her visor flashed yellow for a moment. Phone call.

The distraction was enough for Izz to sweep her legs out from under her (again), and Phoenix yielded even though for once she actually had fallen with enough leverage that it might have been worth the effort to try to grapple with the squad leader.

Phoenix grabbed a towel, thanked Izz, and walked towards the elevators. Her call log showed that she'd called herself, so it was really a computer-generated message from her calendar. Yamada time. Joy.

She'd given herself enough pre-scheduled warning that she could grab a quick shower, another change of clothes, and retreat to her dorm before it was time to actually connect.

As she always did before she logged on, Phoenix re-read the contract she'd made to protect her sessions with the therapist, reminding herself of the provisions she needed to uphold. It was one of the very few deals she'd actually written out in full before she executed it, and the only one she hadn't yet burned. The idea was simple: protect the conversation from eavesdroppers and prevent Yamada from betraying her, in exchange for Phoenix's complete honesty and making every reasonable effort to attend all her sessions, no matter who told her to do them.

The details, of course, were far more complicated, taking up nearly thirty pages of tightly-cramped handwriting. She'd spent days on it while Armsmaster lined up his legal issues, and even grudgingly accepted the help of Trickster, though those sections she'd gone over ten or twelve times before she was satisfied he hadn't slipped something past her. He'd been behaving himself lately and it was making her edgy.

Again, the thought was enough to let him appear. As usual, he looked like a mischievous fourteen year old redhead in casual, every-day clothes. Converse, jeans, witty t-shirt, ballcap, chewing gum. An all-American headache.

"That's not very nice," whined his voice in her head, the closest thing she got to noise these days. His mouth didn't move, neither of them in the mood to pretend he was talking or that she was listening.

 _Shut up_ she snarled back inaudibly, and she had enough latent anger that she hadn't released in meditation or physical exertion that he flinched. He might be insubstantial to the physical world, but there were other dimensions where he was not so invulnerable. Phoenix imagined slamming a door, the coil of muscles in her right shoulder and elbow, the snap of the wrist that would make the wood CRACK satisfyingly, and then Trickster was gone.

She pulled out her laptop and connected it, hardline, to the PRT network. Dragon had showed her the coding that protected and then erased her conversations with Yamada, and Phoenix had understood perhaps one part in ten. She trusted Dragon on the strength of Ash's word, trusted her abilities based on Ash's judgment of her, and left the rest to her contract.

She had about a minute to spare by the time the computer had logged in, run its security protocols, and finally opened the chat. Phoenix stretched the cord out from the desk until she could lie on her stomach on the bed. It wouldn't be comfortable for long, but it felt good for her bruised back at the moment.

Yamada opened the conversation, as she always did.

Dr. Yamada _: How is today?_

Phoenix: _Busy. I went ot CB yst as you suggested and we talked to Tay. She'd been approached by BB villain Tattletale in civ IDs. Tattletale's being threatened by Coil. Coil might be a criminal mastermind._

Phoenix didn't bother to fix her typos, knowing Yamada would understand what she meant. A simple tap of the enter key sent the message. Immediately, Phoenix started typing again.

Phoenix: _Time is of the essence. Coil has spies in PRT, so closed and accelerated investigation. Planning first contact with Coil Sat._

Dr. Yamada: _I'm not familiar with Tattletale. What is her power? And Coil's?_

Yamada always used perfect punctuation, and few abbreviations. Phoenix wasn't sure if she just thought that way, or if she felt like she needed to stay professional or something. She wouldn't be surprised if that was just how Yamada was; the woman seemed pretty unshakeable.

Phoenix: _TT is thinker. Sherlock Holmes on steroids. My power screws with her, and also my life is too weird for her to believe. Trust strang fiction. ]]]_

Phoenix tried to go back and fix "trust" to be "truth," and found her backspace key didn't work. She hit enter to send the message and immediately started typing the next one.

Phoenix: _You had Dragon disable my bksp again?_

Dr. Yamada: _She was actually quite impressed you'd managed to un-do it._

Phoenix: _I didn't. Created a second patch program to make ] key a backspace too. Ash used to prank me by screwing w/ kboard, so I know lotsa good tricks. Wouldn't mess with Dragon's program, it protects us._

Dr. Yamada: _It's important that you don't feel the need to edit yourself._

Phoenix: _Having the option would be nice._

Dr. Yamada: _Are you avoiding talking about Coil? Or Tattletale?_

Phoenix: _You know me so well already. Both. Try to out-think two thinkers and tell me how your brain feels._

Dr. Yamada: _Coil is also a thinker?_

Phoenix: _Or a precog. Or a shaker. Or a probability manipulator._

Dr. Yamada: _If you know so little about him, why are you engaging so soon?_

Phoenix: _TT's life is on teh line. Coil has threatened her in teh past, and she's too scared to try to keep secrets from him now._

Dr. Yamada: _Secrets?_

Phoenix: _Her power guessed our identity. Tay and Mine. TT went to Tay b/c she's not the ender._

Dr. Yamada: _I want to come back to your disdain for that name, but let's talk about what you said earlier. Why do you feel like it's up to you to out-think both Tattletale and Coil?_

Phoenix sighed. She hadn't really expected Dr. Yamada to fall into the trap of talking about that stupid nickname again, but it had been worth a shot.

Phoenix: _Bc I can?_

Dr. Yamada: _Can you? Thinkers have the ability to think better, inherently. Why do you expect yourself to be able to keep up?_

Phoenix: _Bc we don't have anyone else who can._

Phoenix: _Bc they're my people. I have to protect them._

Dr. Yamada: _The other Wards have years of experience._

Phoenix: _We're working on it together._

Dr. Yamada: _But you feel that ultimately, the responsibility rests with you?_

Phoenix: _Being a hero means that ultimately you do it yourself. Teh only actions you can change are yours. You are the only person you can make responsible for anything. If you want it done, do it. Others can and will help but if you make them a linchpin it can bit eyou hard._

Dr. Yamada: _I wonder what Clockblocker would say if he heard that?_

Phoenix: _Honestly? I think he lives by some version of that himself. He takes his job seriously, and you should see him defend TAylor. She's HIS people, and he'd just about punch TT event though she dind't really threaten her._

Phoenix: _Clock wouldn't be the hero he is if he didn't agree, to some extent. It's why we do and don't get a long. We're too alike._

Dr. Yamada: _And Ash? What would he say?_

Phoenix: _Who do you think taught it to me?_

Dr. Yamada: _He expected you to be responsible for everything?_

Phoenix: _No. He didn't. He expected himself to be responsible. I learned by watching him. He did what he could, everything he could. How can I do anything less?_

Dr. Yamada: _You killed the Endbringers._

Phoenix: _That's a good start. Does it mean I shouldn't save Lisa's life?_

Dr. Yamada: _Lisa?_

Phoenix: _TT. Whatev._

Dr. Yamada: _You shouldn't risk your life for hers._

Phoenix: _What else is a hero?_

There was a pause, and Phoenix knew that Dr. Yamada was gathering her thoughts, recovering from the rapid-fire back and forth. After a moment of her own deep breathes, it was actually Phoenix who broke the silence.

Phoenix: _Sorry. Not mad at you. Shouldn't have taken it out on you._

Dr. Yamada: _You're allowed to be emotional._

Phoenix: _Not your fault._

Phoenix knew that Dr. Yamada had to be itching to ask who she was actually mad at, but it wasn't enough to distract her from this line of conversation. It seemed that Dr. Yamada wanted to talk about repressed feelings. (Again.)

Dr. Yamada: _Emotions aren't logical. You don't have to control yourself._

Phoenix: _Do you want me to yell at you?_

Phoenix: _Or at CB for that matter?_

Phoenix: _that's what this is really about right? not supressing my own emotional good for the benefit of others?_

Phoenix: _CB was loosing his dad. I would do much more for the people I love than what Clock did. Taht's not even a drop inteh ocean of what I would do._

Phoenix: _that kind of loyality is hard to find. So what if it was to his dad and SS? She was heis teammate!_

Phoenix stopped typing and yanked her hands back from the keyboard. Well, if Dr. Yamada wanted evidence that she was still working through her own feelings regarding her team leader, Fi had basically just served it to her on a platter. Which was stupid, because she really _wasn't_ upset at Clock any more. Tattletale's callousness had just opened up an old hurt, one much deeper than Clock's request for his dad. Dennis was not the first person who'd made demands without understanding or considering the costs, and he wouldn't be the last. She shifted positions, sitting up against the headboard with the computer on her lap.

Dr. Yamada: _Just because you understand someone, doesn't mean they can't hurt you._

Phoenix: _I trust Clockblocker. More than that, I like Clock. He's a good guy, and a decent team leader. No one else on teh team would be better, not even me. I'm too much still a hunter, not enough a cape. Being mad at him doesn't help anyone. He did what he had to, I respect that._

Dr. Yamada: _If you just shove your feelings aside instead of facing them, they will fester. What good will that do the team?_

Phoenix: _Forgiveness is an act of will. I have decided to forgive Clock. God knows I've forgiven people for much worst sins thn his. It's just raw enough that it can still bubble to the surface sometimes. dragging it up with you won't help._

Dr. Yamada: _That's very admirable of you._

Dr. Yamada: _How do you feel about facing an opponent of unknown power in just a few days?_

Phoenix: _Can't come soon enough._

Dr. Yamada: _Really?_

Phoenix: _What's two days going to change besides trying to tip our hand? When you've got good sights on a deer, you don't just wait and hope it wanders closer to you. You breathe deep, check windspeed, and pull the trigger._

Okay, so the only deer she'd ever shot was to use as bait for something much bigger, but it wasn't a lie and it made her point.

Dr. Yamada: _You're not worried about what you don't know?_

Phoenix: _Whatever Coil's power is, it's not physical. Getting to him might be a bear, fighting him might be unlucky, but I'm not scared of bad luck. TT told us she's seen him recovering from injuries. He can be hurt._

Dr. Yamada: _Hopefully it doesn't come to that._

Phoenix: _Oh, I know. I have no desire to ]]]_

Phoenix: _Scratch that. After what i've heard and with what I suspect, I'd love to break his arm._

Phoenix: _but I know that's not appropriate, and I'll only do it if necessary._

Dr. Yamada: _Thank you for being honest._

Phoenix: _what's therapy for, right?_

Dr. Yamada: _Has it been hard to be in close contact with Tattletale?_

Phoenix: _Not really. Lisa's not a bad kid, just got in over her head pretty fast. smug as all getout. Irritating if you let her be._

Dr. Yamada: _I meant as a thinker. Given your dislike of Company and other PRT thinkers, I assumed you'd be uncomfortable sharing a base with Tattletale._

Phoenix: _Oh. Well for one, TT doesn't believe have teh stuff she does see. Company sets out to be maniuplitve. And, you know, he's an ass._

Dr. Yamada: _Is he? I got the impression you haven't had much contact with each other._

Phoenix: _He helped gangpress me into the PRT._

Dr. Yamada: _If he hadn't been in New York, would you still have stayed with the Wards?_

There were a dozen flippant responses she wanted to give to that, but such a direct question required an honest answer.

Phoenix: _yes._

Phoenix didn't elaborate. There was nothing else she wanted to say on the subject.

Dr. Yamada: _yet you blame him?_

Phoenix: _Who was it that said emotions aren't logical?_

Dr. Yamada: _Fair point._

Phoenix knew Yamada would drop the subject if she kept resisting it, as she had every other time that Company had come up, but she was tired of dancing around this particular snake pit.

Phoenix: _He was the one part of teh PRT I could resist. And I was so cared of being manipuated in NYC. I was dealing with enough without a stupid person-thinker tryin gto pull me apart and make me think whatever he wanted to make he mthink._

Phoenix: _human brain sucks. So much going on we don't udnerstand, subconcious, unconscious, id ego whatev. biases and cognitive shit. it's hard enough to compensate for that suff when you've on your game an dgot good peeps with you. Allone? Against a thinker?_

Phoenix: _I needed something that was mine. My mind. My thoughts._

Dr. Yamada: _You saw Company as a master._

Phoenix: _"saw"? Taht's bullhit. Company IS a fricken' master. if he was a villain, you know PRT would give him master 2 or 3 minimuum. Power may function as a thinker, but he's a master._

Phoenix: _I'm not paranoid._

Phoenix: _and while we're on the subject, PRT ratings are bull too. Focused on how power works not actual effect. Precog technically thinker power, capes like JS who are "striker" but deadly at 100 ft w/ knives._

Phoenix: _okay, rant over. wanted to say it._

Dr. Yamada: _I can understand your frustration. The PRT had to come up with some sort of standardized response. As I understand it, the current system grew out of many different systems across a large number of teams. It's not perfect._

Phoenix: _Figured it was something liek that._

Dr. Yamada: _Do you mind if I ask how you'd classify your teammates? If you were focused on their "effects" rather than the PRT convention?_

Phoenix: _Vista is a shaker through and through. Minor thinker (0/1) cause she can't bend where people are, which gives her a glimpse of where people are and thinker rating would also account for long experience in field._

Phoenix: _Intrepid mover, brute bc his grav reduction lets him lift more when flying, plus blaster for tinker weapon._

Phoenix: _Gallant mover w/ armor, brute w/ armor, thinker for emotions, blaster/master for emotional blast,_

Phoenix: _Clock is striker/breaker. Also shaker 1 for his ability to change lay of field by creating barriers. (remind me to tell you the stuff he and Beetle r working on)_

Phoenix: _Beetle could be anything. Mostly thinker right now, small shaker for swarm effect of field and traps. Working on bug-clones which will give her stranger / apparent changer rating depending on rumors which we might enocurage dependign on what PR says. Could also be stranger if bug spying improves. Could be brute w/ better costume(spider silk rocks), blaster w/ right bugs and tactics. but she won't go that way, not enough presure, not enough confidence._

Phoenix: _Actually Beetle proves my point: PRT says MAster X. but that's the least helpful summary if you needed immediate battle info, bc mastering a human is like one power she doesn't have._

Dr. Yamada: _And Kid Win?_

Phoenix: _tinker BS. Need say more?_

Phoenix: _if I was PRT, would try to keep secondary ratings based on equipment but unlike Arms etc KW tinker designed to change easy, no good way to measure. Just take best rating (prob mover 3 currently for hover baord + passenger) and add two for shenanigans and surprise, so tinker 5._

Dr. Yamada: _What about yourself?_

Phoenix: _Without deals, I'm mover, shaker, blaster, thinker, striker._

Phoenix: _with deals just say wildcard and get it over with. easier than listing all. Bottom line: don't put me in a corner._

Phoenix: _I'm no one's victim._

Dr. Yamada: _And yet you do feel cornered._

Phoenix: _If life was easy, anyone could do it. Beaten down, and beat, not same at all._

Dr. Yamada: _That's very true. It's been awhile since we talked about your emotional connection with the team as a whole. Any concerns on that front, going into a dangerous confrontation?_

Phoenix: _Hardest part will be with CB. I trust him, and he trusts me. But we'll have very different information at mission critical times. I will be in field, he'll be home base. He's team leader, he shoud be, but I'll also need ability to make field calls._

Phoenix: _He will hate that I'm out there taking risks he can't take for himself, I know I hate the sidelines and I can't imagine he feels any different. I will need him to trust me to take those risks with myself an d with the team. We've had sim times but it s not the smae as field time. We will be a deadly duo someday but right now we are still growning. This could make or break us._

Phoenix: _There will also be operational security issues. We don't know Coil's power, so best way to keep a secret is to tell no one. No one. Not bc I don't trust CB but bc Coil's pwoer might be BS. I do trust Clock. I hope he can trust me when we are done._

Dr. Yamada: _And the rest?_

Phoenix: _Intrepid is good people. Both a friend and an ally. He would follow me to hell and back. I have no worries there, except that he might trust me so much he doesn't protest when he should. I'm not perfect, but he might need to see me screw up before he will hold me accountable like he should._

Phoenix paused, considering how much to say about Beetle. She'd been trying to help her heal and become more confident over the past two weeks, but that had been put on the back burner due to the Coil mess. On a personal note, Taylor was also doing what she could to help Phoenix, which she appreciated, but as a cape?

Phoenix: _Beetle is new in teh field. Often has the most data, but least exp. Need to teach her to share info more effectively, or else make her a much better strategist very quickly. She's also still recovering from bullies. When she's working/helping people, she's good so she'll be fine in field. Afterwards, we'll need to help her decompress carefully. she should talk to you, actually._

Phoenix: _TT will be in field with us. I trust her to help against C bc save her own life. After that? Who knows._

She sat back, considering if she should mention anything about Tattletale's earlier jab about killing Coil, but it didn't seem worth it to lose her train of thought. Thinking her way through her team connections was surprisingly therapeutic. She felt better about the mission already.

Phoenix: _Vista is a rock. Solid powers, great exp, good humor… she reminds me of Jo. Except she's even better. Jo had a drama streak, sometimes. Others treat V like a little kid, but she's older than she seems. Best yet, she's a great #2. She's what I need Intrepid to be. She'll call Clock on hsi shit when she sees it._

Phoenix: _KW is scattered, until pressure hits. Like Beetle, will be good in field. In general he needs more focus at home. So excited about knowing specality that he doesn't prioritize. I've had to help him keep on track and do the legal junk. Stuff should be approved for Sat, I hope._

Phoenix: _Gallant… I don't like that he sees my emotions. I don't like being vulnerable like that, and I don't like that he HAS to see them, know what I'm going through. He shoudln't have to put up with my greif, anger, issues in gen. He's a nice guy, I know. But I avoid him when I can. For field? he hesitates. I think bc he sees the enemy as people. Good as a person, not as backup._

Dr. Yamada: _Do you think the seven of you will be enough to take down Coil?_

Phoenix: _Three in field (TT incl) and five in base. No. Don't think we'll take him down. But we'll learn, and we'll coem out safe._

Dr. Yamada: _Have you talked to Clockblocker about your concerns?_

Phoenix: _No. Don't want to screw up team dynamic before big day._

Dr. Yamada: _I think you should. Especially about how the two of you will interact during this time. You said you thought it might make or break you._

Phoenix: _I'll look for the right opportunity._

Dr. Yamada: _Thank you. We're coming up on an hour. Is there anything you'd like to talk about?_

Phoenix: _we covered it._

Dr. Yamada: _You know you can call me any time to set up an emergency session._

Phoenix: _And I know I can call you anytime to set up an emergency sesh._

Phoenix got her message out just a split second after Dr. Yamada's appeared. Darn it. The joke would have been funnier if she'd managed to send hers first. Overall, Yamada was a good choice for a therapist. She was very down-to-earth, in a "horse sense" kind of way that was easy to listen to and accept. She refrained from giving too much straight advice, letting Phoenix work through most issues on her own time.

She'd even had a previous encounter with the supernatural (a hunter named Rusty who Phoenix didn't know had wasted the shifter in question) so she didn't flinch when Phoenix explained her past. That had been both a relief and a large coincidence, which Phoenix was chalking up to her curse, for now.

Dr. Yamada: _I mean it, but I think you know that. What time do you want to talk tomorrow?_

Dr. Yamada: _How does just before lunch sound?_

Phoenix: _11 it is. Ciao._

Phoenix: _and thanks._

Dr. Yamada: _anytime. Take care of yourself._

Phoenix logged off, knowing from experience that Dr. Yamada wouldn't leave first in case Phoenix decided there was something else she wanted to say. It sort of bugged Phoenix, who had never been good at goodbyes except with a few people, but she didn't let it get to her. Instead she unplugged the hard line so she could put the laptop in her bedside table drawer.

Then she stretched out on the bed. She'd gotten only a couple hours of sleep that morning, and those had been broken by some sort of dream she didn't remember now. After exhausting herself mentally, then physically, and now emotionally, she felt like she might actually be able to rest.

* * *

 _The smell wasn't anything particularly strong, a little bit of dirty man, a little bit of old dishes, a little bit of dank, but it was still distinctive enough._ The rest of the scene filtered into awareness in pieces. Unfinished concrete floor, shelf hooks turned into slave rings, cold handcuffs. Three or four frightened faces \- God forgive her, she could hardly remember any more; though she knew there had been five of them, that part was always blurred. **Scar across the eye,** not damaging his sight but the Nazi bastard had taken a cut to face at some point.

Clarissa's **whimper** was the **first sound** her mind recreated, snapping into perspective the entirety of the dream: the cellar, the two attackers, _Phoenix's torn shirt_.

It was this moment, it was always this moment that her mind brought her back to. Even before New York, she'd been dreaming of this for years, and Trickster had spent 62 days replaying this little drama for her every single night. She'd hoped, prayed, that ending the contract would end her torment. It hadn't. His assault had given the events renewed power over her, and she couldn't fight it, even though she knew it was just a nightmare.

Scar-face chuckled, **twisting** Clarissa's arm further as he _pulled her_ to her feet and she tried in vain to resist him. Phoenix could feel her own hands behind her back, **scrambling** against the cuffs.

" _You can get out of handcuffs, if you're willing to break your own thumb,"_ echoed in her head in  Josh's voice, and in her dream it was actually an audible sound, recreated and laid over the horrific soundtrack of Clarrisa's terrified, inarticulate begging and the click-clank of Phoenix's rapist re-securing her chain to the wall.

What Josh hadn't mentioned was how hard it was to actually accomplish. Phoenix didn't lack the will, but she couldn't get the leverage she needed. It wasn't right. She'd die for that girl, would kill if necessary for all these girls whose faces she could no longer recall, but she couldn't manage to break her own thumb.

 _Stories never told you details like that_ , she thought, but it was there and gone as Clarissa keened loudly. Phoenix felt her **soul** cry out in rage and defiance and desperation and disbelief that this sort of evil could exist, was allowed to exist, chose to exist and  she **couldn't** _stop it_. Her heart thudded in her chest, and the refusal to accept felt like a pressure in her head, behind her eyes, begging for a way out.

Abruptly, the Trickster was there, dressed as he always dressed for her, red hair hanging long enough to nearly cover his eyes.

"You're not in a story," he drawled. Phoenix was too busy trying to twist her hand just right, her sweaty skin sliding against the metal ring instead of wedging in it as she needed it to. She didn't notice that he'd come without summoning, she didn't care that he had no reason to be there.

Clarissa kicked her scar-faced assailant, and the one next to Phoenix looked over, unaware that the Trickster was between him and his companion, as insubstantial as gaseous nitrogen. The kick did no good; they were only feet away from the steps up to the main house.

"Why shouldn't I be?" Phoenix snarled, and she could no longer even recall if she'd spoken aloud or just to the Trickster. Time and repetition had blurred what details they didn't sharpen.

"Life doesn't work that way," he told her with a heavy-lidded stare, oblivious to the Nazi who was trying to drag Clarissa through his midsection, unaware of Trickster's presence, while Clarissa sobbed and jerked and cried - cried out Phoenix's name. Even with the outside world moving as slowly as it seemed to be, Phoenix could recognize her own name.

"My life does. I came from the side of a highway. I've survived as a first-gen hunter. I've succeeded in manipulating _you_. I do not accept that I am powerless _now_. This is not how the story goes. Human will is powerful. I refuse to accept any of this."

"If this was a story, you'd be swearing to kill these men. Isn't that what story-heroes do? You're too good, too not-real for a story. Who focuses on the victims with meaty, sweaty, ugly villains to hate? You'd make a bad protagonist."

"You're lying."

"What if I'm not? What if the only reason you can't get out is that you won't kill these men? Narrative is powerful, but it's also constricting."

"You're wrong. If that's what it takes to make my life a story, I'll gladly kill these men."

As always, the crash took her by surprise. It wasn't just the pop/crack of her thumb finally yielding to her struggle. It wasn't just the scraping of Clarissa's foot flying out and catching a length of unused chain, pulling it across the concrete as Phoenix fought the mind-numbing pain and yanked her hand free. It was the relief of a pressure she didn't know she'd been fighting.

It was impossible to say where the pressure had come from, when it had begun, because it was simply gone, and something in the world felt more in balance now that it was. She knew two things with absolute certainty:

Her life was a story.

She was going to kill these men.

Her rapist was easy: she stood up too sharply, he wasn't expecting it, and she was able to bring her good hand - unbroken thumb, but still in a cuff - around to grab his head and slam it downwards, headbutting him, and driving his nose into his brain. As his body crumpled, she grabbed the knife out of his belt and flung it across the room, through Trickster's non-existent shoulder and into the eye of Clarissa's attacker, completing his scar as it entered his brain.

Clarissa kept crying, terrified of the dead weight that had fallen on her. Phoenix pulled the end of her chain free of the loop on the wall, it was faster than getting her second hand free, and carried the chain with her as she went upstairs. On her way past Clarissa, she stopped long enough to roll the man over, freeing the girl and pulling the knife out of his brain. A part of the eye came with it, but Phoenix didn't pause, taking the steps at double time.

There were four figures there, waiting for her wrath. The first was the Nazi ostentatiously "on guard," who was facing Phoenix when she opened the door. She slit his throat before he could raise his gun. The stroke didn't sever the spine, but there was enough bloodspray to let her feel confident about shouldering him aside and putting her back to the dying corpse.

His two co-conspirators were on the couch. The heavier one stood up, and she slit open his gut as she walked past, leaving the knife buried up to the hilt. It wasn't enough to kill him, not right away, but he crumpled from the pain. The tallest man didn't even make it off the couch before she'd grabbed his chin, and the back of his head, and twisted sharply. Her broken thumb throbbed with muted pain in time with the cracking of his spine. Then she turned to the last figure.

"What are you doing here?"

Death, like the Trickster, would not have stood out on an average American street. Josh had described him as a skeletal man with waxy skin, dressed in a business suit from the 1920s and grey-haired. Phoenix didn't see him that way. To her, he was an unassuming Caucasian with classically dark hair and a soft face, dressed simply in a black button up and dark grey slacks. If anything, he looked young.

He didn't answer her demand, instead just spreading his hands out, encompassing the room. Phoenix was suddenly very aware of the blood dripping from her hair onto her neck. The thickset man from the couch coughed weakly, still dying.

"I didn't invite you," she snapped.

"Oh, but you did." Her body was not her own as her eyes were drawn to follow his until they rested on the gasping man. He was pudgy, shaved bald, and tattooed. Ugly.

At the echo of his word, the Trickster ghosted up from the cellar, walking until he stood over the last Nazi. "Very efficient," he said, approving. Phoenix swallowed the urge to hurl.

"What did you do to me?"

The Trickster raised his eyebrow in the expression that meant either innocence, or false innocence. With the Trickster, there was no observable difference. "I, my sweet? I did nothing."

"You broke my thumb."

"You broke your thumb," Death countered, and Phoenix caught a hint of disappointment in the Trickster's manner as she turned back to Death. "You cursed yourself."

"Cursed?"

Death smiled, and it neither pleasant nor unpleasant. "If it is a Chinese curse to live in interesting times, it seems to me that the American version of it might be to live in a story."

"You're lying," she said, though she turned back to the Trickster as she said it. "You made me do this."

Death didn't let him answer. "My dear, we cannot lie to each other now."

Phoenix looked back at him sharply, wary though she was to take her attention off the Trickster. "Why not?"

"You tell me," he said, and for a second time, an external force drew her gaze down to the man who was still choking on whatever damage she had done to him. Probably the intestines and kidneys, based on his weight and the length and depth of the cut. Not the lungs or heart, which would have ended his life already. Possibly the stomach, but she doubted it.

"Undo it," she snapped, raising her gaze from the man to the Trickster. He only leered at her.

"At what price?" Death asked, and she couldn't even turn around to answer him.

The wave of pressure drove her to her knees, not from any particular direction but pounding from without and within in an uneven rhythm. She felt like she was tilting, even though she had both hands firmly planted on the ground. She tried to reach out to steady herself, but no physical movement changed the sense of vertigo. The only thing available to grasp wasn't… wasn't physical. There were six downstairs. Two here in the room. Four off to her right, far enough away to be in the next house.

She recognized the pressure just as she was about to grab onto five of those not-physical anchors, and realized that _this_ was what had crashed when she agreed to kill the Nazis. She shoved herself away from the not-physical hand-holds. She pushed the pressure away, and then down, and then in, and then up, but it wouldn't leave.

She tried to focus, to think, but the pressure materialized in her brain and she screamed. "Stop," she begged but it didn't, wouldn't.

"You can accept what you have done, or you can undo it. That is not for either of us to decide," the Trickster said lazily. The idea of acceptance was tempting, so tempting, to just collapse and sleep and not-deal with whatever was now real. But she wasn't sure anymore what she would be accepting.

A sick moan came from the same direction, human in a way that the Trickster's voice was not, and Phoenix vomited all over her hands, still planted on the floor in front of her. The stench was overpowering, and she sicked up again, her gut rolling under the pain and the pressure and the realization of what she'd done. She'd killed five men. That was her victim, moaning just feet away, dying slowly and painfully because of what she had done.

She forced herself back to her feet, supporting herself on the back of the couch, bracing for what she knew she had to do. The chain still attached to her left wrist clicked as she swayed.

"Why can I see you?" she asked Death, breathing as deeply as she could.

"You have a connection to us now, to the world beyond your world. You will have to block us out purposefully, if that is your desire."

Her victim, one of her victims, gave another rattling moan.

Phoenix shut her eyes. She didn't want it to be true. After everything she'd endured without triggering, she'd thought it would be impossible for her. She knew what she ought to be doing, but her legs wouldn't move. The pressure started to build again, but this time she could push back down inside herself and it obeyed.

"You've always been entertaining," the Trickster said, drawing her gaze. "Unyielding. Now the whole world will bow before your will."

"Go," she commanded, but he didn't so much as flinch. The smug look on his face was enough to break her legs out of their frozen state. She stepped forward and physically shoved him away. Her hands never touched him, there was nothing there _to_ touch, but nonetheless he vanished.

Her knees gave out, but it didn't matter, she was crouching next to her victim now. His eyes cracked open and even though not a muscle in his face twitched she knew he was afraid. With her left hand still dangling chain, she pulled the knife out of his gun and sliced across his throat, good and deep, finally releasing him from his pain.

There was no sound, no change in atmosphere, but she knew Death had left with him.

Then the front door banged open, and Phoenix raised her -

* * *

Phoenix jerked awake, and let herself roll to her feet and pull the knife out from its sheath beside her mattress even though she knew it had been a dream. Just a dream.

"Jesus," she whispered in a voice she couldn't hear, both a solicitation for strength and a breath of relief. She glanced at the clock. 17 minutes of sleep. God grant her mercy.

She re-sheathed the knife in her ankle holster and walked to the girls' bathroom. Mechanically, she splashed water on her face and evaluated her reflection. She looked tired, but about the same as she always did these days.

 _Trickster? I know you're watching,_ she thought, and after several moments he materialized behind her so that she was looking at his reflection. Or perhaps he was only in the mirror, and if she turned around she wouldn't see him.

"You called?" said the voice that wasn't human or audible.

 _Why am I still dreaming of that day?_

He shrugged, uncaring. "Why not? Perhaps your mind is trying to tell you something." Trickster wasn't capable of human emotion, but even if he was Phoenix suspected he wouldn't have sympathy for her.

 _I knew nothing that day. I didn't understand my power, I didn't understand what I'd done. I barely understood that I had triggered, and that it let me see you. Even that, Death laid that out for me. What else is there?_

"Perhaps you're missing something."

 _What? I've relived it a thousand times. There's no gap, no signs of lost time, nothing._

"Your brain, princess." He smirked and vanished. Phoenix shut off the water, stared at her reflection a moment longer, and then grudgingly put the visor on.

Almost immediately, words wrote themselves across the bathroom sink, and she looked up to see Jason standing in the doorway.

 _Jason: You okay?_

Her first reflex was to lash out, to ask him, _I'm washing my face in the middle of the day after a session with my therapist, how do you think I'm doing?_

Phoenix suppressed the instinct. Jason was a decent guy, a friend, her greatest ally, and she refused to take her pain out on him for no good reason. Particularly since he was honestly trying to help. This is what Jason did: he helped. Like her and Clockblocker, he was uncomfortable with inaction, even or especially when there was really nothing to be done. In answer, she grimaced. "Armsmaster said we have to wait until Saturday."

From the look Jason was giving her, even behind his own visor, he knew that wasn't what had her so upset, but he rolled with her prompt.

 _Jason: Clockblocker told us._

Jason didn't say anything further, just waited to see if she wanted to talk. It felt good, just knowing he was patiently there.

"Think Clockblocker would clear us for a foot patrol? I need to get out of here for a bit."

 _Jason: We could just go to the Boardwalk in civs._

"Boardwalk?"

Jason smirked.

 _Jason: Aren't you going to go stare at the bay again?_

...he knew her well. She inclined her head, and his smirk widened into a grin.

 _Jason: I'll go get changed. You tell Clock._

* * *

Jason was right, civilian time was exactly what she needed. She was wearing her tinker-tech glasses, which required a phone to Bluetooth to for the processing power, but they were lighter and inconspicuous. Other than that, she could almost believe that she was back before New York City, before Behemoth, just wandering through a city waiting for Ash to call her with the next job.

They did spend a while staring out over the bay, and Jason was willing to leave her to her thoughts while they did. She was grateful. She didn't understand why she kept reliving her trigger event. It wasn't just the nightmare of that trauma and others; she had those frequently. The reliving was different. It started out the same, with the surreal dream-like feel, but then sometimes the dream would transition to a full-fledged recreation of her trigger and she forgot that she was dreaming.

She understood her power now, knew how to propose a deal and test solutions without accidentally succumbing to the pressure and changing reality in a way she didn't yet intend. There was nothing more for her to learn from reliving her first, thoughtless trade.

She also understood the presence of Death and Trickster. Death always came to every deathbed, but was visible only to those who had either prepared themselves to see him, or who both believed in him and had a strong enough connection to something unworldly. As a cape and a hunter, Contract fulfilled the second set of circumstances.

Trickster had taken longer to pin down. He was unique among all the interdimensional entities that hunters had encountered, because when he fled to earth for sanctuary he was already severely weakened. He'd voluntarily constricted himself into the human archetype of the Trickster in order to hide. In doing so, he'd trapped himself, losing all previous identity and nearly all ability to interact with or affect the world.

Jo's family already knew that the Trickster could be summoned by hunters, and eventually she and Phoenix had worked out that the same other-worldly-ness that let her see Death would let her see Trickster too, if he was around, willing, she gave him even the smallest opening, such as thinking of him. Thanks to the curse she'd accidentally put on herself, he found her more entertaining than most hunters, so she'd seen a lot of him in the past six years.

It was Trickster's mistake in trapping himself inside a human idea that had been the inspiration for trapping Death in his anthropomorphic archetype prison five hundred years later. Both entities were tightly bound by the restrictions. They had basically no influence in the world at large, and were forced to exist as powerless, immortal observers who could only speak when invited to do so.

Of course, Trickster had enjoyed 62 days of increased freedom when Phoenix had temporarily removed the outermost of his protections in exchange for imprisoning Behemoth. He'd been able to appear to her regardless of invitation or circumstance and he'd manipulated her dreams. For every minute of every day, he'd been trying to trick her into loosening his bonds still further.

Any hunter who had wanted to shoot her during that time was not unjustified. Taking any kind of risk with a B&B was unforgivable, but she'd _had_ to do it. She'd been playing with hundreds of millions of lives, risking Trickster getting loose against the known danger posed by Behemoth. She'd been glad when she finally broke down and emailed Eidolon, cryptically asking if she could release Behemoth, and gotten a yes in reply. Trickster, of course, had thrown a hissy fit of epic proportions but by then she'd been able to shove him away, so she didn't really care.

But none of this was new to her, and nothing in that long-ago day shed any new light on the situation. So what was she missing?

 _Jason: Penny for your thoughts?_

Phoenix glanced at the clock display she kept in the corner of her vision. More than half an hour had passed since they sat down.

"They're not even worth that much. Come on. Let's go back to base."

Jason squeezed her shoulder as they stood up, and she gave him a forced smile, the best she could manage right now.

 _Jason: Everything will work out._

She could almost remember what his voice would sound like as he said it. How long before she forgot? Before the only sounds she could still remember were her dreams and the not-voice Trickster and Death spoke into her thoughts?

 _Picture a candle_ , Ash's voice said in her head, and she remembered the flames licking up the side of the envelope from Jo, burning brighter as they burned away the bit of Ash's hair that Jo had given her to burn.

Still, she breathed in deeply and released it slowly, trying to expel the knot of emotion in her chest. It worked, loosened the emotions at least a little bit.

 _Jason: I don't like the idea of you going into Coil's lair with no backup except Beetle and an ex-villain who has no offensive firepower._

As much as she knew she shouldn't blow him off, Coil just didn't measure up to some of the stuff she'd taken on with her siblings. "It's not like he's a time lord," she told Jason. Then she stopped, turning to him suddenly, her mind flying a mile a minute.

Coil _might be_ a time manipulator. When Brooks had first suggested that there might be a time traveller in Brockton, a team had been dispatched to test the area. Time travel required enormous amounts of power and bled power like a sieve. The tests had shown no sign of that radiation, not even enough for a single traveler looping once or twice over a couple hours. With that in mind, Phoenix had come to Brockton Bay sure that there was no significant time shenanigans happening.

She'd made that dismissal before she had proof that an individual had successfully led a double life within the PRT for nearly a decade. Her incredulity over Calvert being Coil had shielded her from realizing the implications if he _was_.

"Spies in the PRT" could be anything from secretaries to accountants, and a precog that had manipulated a teenager when he was also initiating every contact was… well, it was a problem obviously since he was threatening her life, but it didn't pack the same punch as "PRT squad leader who is also living and committing crimes as a successful parahuman crime lord." The power required for those two tasks were separated by at least an order of magnitude.

She'd heard Tattletale's concerns about Coil, but had mentally downgraded the severity of the threat on the reasoning that any truly advanced precognition or spying would never have let the villain get into the Ward's base. She'd dismissed the idea of time travel based on tests that were years old. Maybe Coil hadn't been using his power at the time. Maybe parahuman time travel was the one type that didn't leak. Either explanation was low probability, but much more likely than Calvert managing to be Coil through luck.

The magnitude of that accomplishment was just settling in, forcing her to raise her estimation of Coil's potential danger. Before this, Phoenix hadn't really considered that he might actually pose a real threat to herself or her team.

Shit. If there was even a chance that Coil's power was time-related, then the reality was that her team might already be engaged with him in a future from which he could access this moment. She needed to get Beetle and Tattletale out of the PRT, and get Armsmaster on board with a much more aggressive plan of action. If Coil was a time lord, even just on the scale of sending himself messages from the future, then this was _bad_.

She took another deep breath.

 _Jason: What? What is it?_

"Give me a minute. I've been an idiot and I'm trying to compensate."

Was she sure Coil was a time manipulator? No. For one, the energy leakage wasn't present. For another, she'd never encountered any sort of messages through time that didn't end up as self-fulfilling prophecies. Powers did weird stuff, yes. They broke the rules, yes. But there was also evidence that they _followed_ the rules. Precogs and masters seemed at least hindered by measures intended to protect against their supernatural counterparts.

Could she take the chance? No, absolutely not. She needed to assume he was capable of looping and changing time, maybe up to two days' worth. Any more than that, and he wouldn't have needed ten years to fail to take over Brockton Bay. Much less than a day, however, and she doubted his ability to lead his double life.

 _Jason: Is this about Coil?_

She refocused on her teammate, her partner. She liked her chances against a time lord much better if she had someone like Jason at her back, who would be willing to trust weird directions in a tight situation. Jason had also proven his ability to adapt quickly, to be observant, and to make good judgement calls. If she'd listened to his opinion of Tattletale, she might have taken the situation more seriously a lot sooner.

"Yes. How good's your acting?"

Jason opened and closed his mouth. She could almost, not quite but almost, hear the wariness in his voice as he asked, "Why?"

Even though she'd already read the word from his lips, could picture how it had sounded, a half a beat later her visor still typed out

 _Jason: Why?_

under his reluctant expression. Her mind was already racing with what they'd need to do, but she took the time to really look at Jason. He didn't think he would like whatever she was thinking of, and the reality was that he probably wouldn't. Jason was a good soul, not destined for the sort of games and tricks that were so necessary as a cape. In another life, he'd have been perfectly happy as regular guy, growing up to be dad and a soccer coach, or maybe a teacher.

Was he capable of holding his own against the likes of the Triumvirate? Yes. He'd proven himself time and again. She just wished she didn't have to be the one to ask it of him. He deserved to go home to dinner with his family.

 _Jason: What are you thinking?_

"I need to talk to Armsmaster. I promise, I will brief you as soon as it's confirmed."

Jason didn't look completely reassured, but he started directing her back to the base while she used her phone to text Armsmaster on an encrypted line, laying out her basic plan. Hunters had certain protocols to use in case of time-hopping threats, and she intended to adapt them to Coil, until and unless she had firm confirmation that he wasn't time-powered.

Armsmaster didn't protest her changes, amendments, and requests but he did ask a simple, open-ended "Why?" as soon as the initial barrage was done.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment, wondering how much to say.

 _Coil might be much more dangerous than I believed. Will tell you in person ASAP, you can check logic._


	39. Paranoia

**Chapter Thirty-Nine: Paranoia**

 **April 9, 2011**

Thomas Calvert's file said he was "detail oriented" which was the polite way of calling him a control freak so that it didn't kill the career of a very successful PRT squad captain with a stellar record. Coil actually preferred the term "paranoid."

Despite common misconception, there was nothing wrong with being paranoid. Paranoid was just another word for cautious, since cautious had been so watered down it was now practically useless. Coil was paranoid, knew he was paranoid, and actually cultivated the habit in himself. And that was why Coil always thought of himself as Thomas Calvert when he was at work.

At this moment, Coil was sitting at home, accessing his network of information and hidden cameras from an encrypted, hardline connection hidden in his living room, while Thomas Calvert was at work, monitoring his squad's workout and waiting for a hot call to come in that required their response. Coil had gotten up that morning, injected himself with a strain of stomach flu, and called into work sick, in case anything unusual occurred throughout the day and he needed an alibi. Thomas Calvert had gotten up, read the newspaper, showered, eaten breakfast, and driven himself to work.

The phone sitting at Coil's elbow buzzed, at the same time that Thomas Calvert's phone registered an email. Thomas Calvert, spotting one of his soldiers at the weight bench, never broke rhythm as he counted the repetitions, while Coil looked at the text. It was from Tattletale, and his lips pursed. She'd avoided him so far, only acknowledging him when he reached out to her or when the Undersiders needed something directly from him. He hadn't been expecting to hear from her any time soon, since the Undersiders were keeping their head down after the hit on Lung's casino.

The casino had been a bust - rich in cash, of course, but of no other value - and had painted quite the target on his teenaged villains. He was fascinated to see how they would weather Lung's attention.

 _New prospects for Undersiders. Will only join if they can meet "sponsor." You're going to want to meet them._

Coil sat back in his chair, idly reaching for the carefully calibrated combination of medications that would shut down his stomach bug, while Thomas Calvert's count reached thirty and he helped his soldier set the bar into the appropriate hooks. He waved the man on and called one of the women taking a water break to come bench press next, while he adjusted the weight to suit her strength.

Tattletale didn't necessarily like the other Undersiders, that was true, and he had mentioned to her the possibility of bringing new members into the group in the future. But for her to go out and actively recruit two or more new members seemed out of character, and out of alignment with his understanding of the team dynamics. Coil tried to track the phone he'd given her, but it had been sitting at the Undersiders' base of operations for days, which meant either that the new prospects had come to her, or that she had left her phone behind.

Another moment of consideration provided a third alternative: she'd cloned the phone chip to make it more difficult for him to track her. So what did it mean that she'd chosen to leave the phone he'd given her behind as she went about her life? Was it a small act of defiance or independence, a way for her assert herself? Or did she have secrets to hide?

Proper caution required he assume the second. But why leave it behind now, after carrying it for months? He used his illegal access to the city records, in conjunction with the GPS data from Lisa's phone on April 4th, 5th, and 6th, to try to track down what caused the change in her behavior. The data was inconclusive. She'd taken several city buses around town, done some shopping at the Boardwalk, and eaten lunch out. In short, nothing that broke her previous patterns of behavior.

For all appearances, Tattletale had simply walked out of the Undersiders' base sometime on Wednesday and not taken her phone with her. He had cameras hidden in the area, but Tattletale could find a way around them if she was determined. She was smart enough for that.

Coming alone, untracked, to a meeting wouldn't be an unreasonable response, depending on who had reached out to her. Coil didn't know of anyone in the Brockton Bay area that would be eager to join the Undersiders, but teenage triggers were common. It could be a new cape who lived in the docks or had interacted with Undersiders at some point. It might even have been someone who had triggered at the casino robbery.

Why would she then leave her phone alone for three days? Perhaps she hadn't been back to the Undersiders at all. She certainly wasn't on any of the footage in the area. What to do, what to do…

He could reply immediately, play it out, and collapse this timeline if things went wrong, leaving behind Thomas Calvert, innocent PRT contractor. Or Coil could go to his emergency bunker, collapse the Thomas Calvert timeline, split the physically safer timeline, and then play out this scenario over and over until he got it right. Which was the better protection? Physical security, or anonymity?

Thomas Calvert glanced at the clock. It was nearly five hours before he'd be able to leave work without a good reason. It had been just over a year since his last sick day, but his men had all seen him already, looking plenty healthy. He could fake an illness from his non-existent wife, but it wasn't as safe as having been sick since the beginning of the day. He could wait to reply, of course, but he preferred to react to unexpected events immediately, to gather information as fast as possible, to help him determine what had happened and which timeline was safer. The only question now, was which timeline to risk for the sake of his curiousity.

Anonymity or physical security? Anonymity, Coil finally decided. He'd respond to Tattletale's text, take the physical risks with his Coil timeline, and keep the Thomas Calvert timeline as his safety net. Coil glanced at the clock on his computer. It was 12:22 PM, so he'd wait to respond until 1:00 when Thomas Calvert would be done with his exercises and doing paperwork. That would allow Thomas Calvert computer access so that he could verify anything Tattletale told Coil. It wasn't ideal - he'd be freer to double check her story if Thomas Calvert could use his equipment at home or in his bunker - but he wanted to disturb his life as Thomas Calvert as little as possible, unless this proved to be worth the cost.

Coil passed the time trying to discover more about what Tattletale had been doing between Wednesday and Saturday, trying to account for those four missing days, but found little. She'd dropped completely off the map.

As soon as Thomas Calvert was in the relative privacy of his office, he checked his email. Sure enough, he had a "spam" email from a non-existent online subscription, his system's way of innocuously informing him he had a text from a priority number on one of his personal lines. That was good, it meant that whatever had prompted Tattletale to text him now was independent of any differences in the timelines, and each should be equally viable when it came to whatever opportunity was presenting itself.

Coil picked up his phone and re-read Tattletale's text again.

 _New prospects for Undersiders. Will only join if they can meet "sponsor." You're going to want to meet them._

It didn't sound exactly like her; Tattletale was never so brusque with him. She'd probably had help writing it. Interesting, but not damning. After some consideration, he sent his own message.

 _Who are they?_

The reply was almost immediate.

 _Now really, Mr. Mysterious, where's the fun in that? If Tattletale won't give us your name I'm sure as hell not going to give you mine._

Ah, so he wasn't speaking with Tattletale at all. He re-read the texts so far, and started to build a mental profile of his opponent. He was a strong individual, capable of overpowering or outmaneuvering Tattletale. He was confident, and a leader. It was almost certain that he had approached Tattletale, perhaps with the eye of recruiting her away from the Undersiders or perhaps looking to take over the group. Coil couldn't imagine that this person was looking to _join_ his little villain team.

Everything about the conversation was an attempt to assert his dominance. Coil's unknown opponent had started with brisk, disrespectful grammar. He'd put "sponsor" in quotations to try to belittle Coil's role in the Undersiders, and finished the text with a statement of fact that was actually a command.

The reply was even more domineering. The simple act of taking Tattletale's phone, rather than telling her what to text, and choosing to text Coil directly spoke of a man of action. The unknown cape had given Coil a name, which was a way of asserting his view of Coil, and mocked him. He'd also tried to imply that he and Coil were equals in not knowing each other's names, the least aggressive but most irritating gesture in the short exchange.

A lesser man would have allowed his anger to rule his response. Coil was angry, yes, but he didn't allow his temper to slip off of its leash. This cape wanted to play hardball? Well, Coil could use that against him. There was an art to controlling someone by letting them think they were in power. Coil, as a villain, used it rarely, but he had significant practice in the technique from his second life as Thomas Calvert.

 _How many "prospects" do you represent?_

Coil didn't bother with questions like how the cape had gotten in contact with Tattletale, or how he'd convinced her to give up whatever secrets she had told him. That he would figure out or torture out of her at a later date. Instead, he asked a question that the cape would want to answer.

 _Myself and two others. Plus Tattletale._

It was another aggressive move, to claim that he'd somehow stolen Tattletale from Coil, but the villain let his anger slide away again. After a moment of consideration, he decided to pretend to be the sort of person that could be provoked so easily, and replied hotly:

 _Why should I waste my time with three no-name cowards?_

The other cape didn't immediately reply, perhaps consulting with Tattletale or his other teammates, but more likely reveling in his victory. A dominant personality would not look to his teammates for advice during a critical moment like this one.

 _Meet me and find out._

Interesting. Meet me, not meet us. This cape thought of himself as significantly more powerful than the ones he had recruited. Whether he actually was or not remained to be seen.

 _Where?_

His opponent's choice of location would tell Coil quite a bit about his identity, and possibly even give the whole game away. Coil almost hoped that the other cape didn't fall for it; it had been so long since he'd felt the thrill of actually being challenged. It was terrifying, yes, but also exhilarating. Coil had been keeping his head down and playing things much safer than he'd hoped to before Contract had moved to Brockton Bay.

Having the Ender in the city was causing Coil no end of headaches, but none of them were like the problem before him. With Contract it was all second-guessing himself, fear that one of the thinkers watching Brockton Bay would accidentally discover one or more of his secrets, and generally just having to be even more paranoid. He'd started to push his timelines as far out as he could go, sometimes letting the divergences stretch on for over a day while he tried to hurry the construction of his base, so that he'd have an actual safe haven to retreat to. The bunker was good, but it was an emergency measure for himself, not a solution for his enterprise.

Now, here was a problem that he could out-think, out-match, and it reminded him why he'd wanted powers in the first place. The chance to be _better_ , to _win_ was within his grasp and it was like a drug to Coil's frayed nerves.

 _As the supplicants, shouldn't we be asking you that question? Where would you feel safe meeting?_

The reply pulled Coil from his thoughts, and made him want to laugh aloud. The unknown opponent was no more a supplicant than he himself was, and they both knew it. The text was also a clumsy attempt to manipulate Coil into inviting them into his base, which he wouldn't do even if it was complete, at least not without serious backup on hand. In fact, it was such a clumsy attempt that Coil could almost believe it was meant to be so, as a joke. Certainly, such awkward and heavy-handed management did not fit with the previous texts.

 _Where do all villains feel safe meeting? 2 PM._

If the other cape didn't already know about Somer's Rock, which Coil judged unlikely, Tattletale would be able to tell him.

 _2 PM._

The program which Coil had been using to try to trace the texts still showed that they were being sent from Tattletale's phone in the Undersiders' base, which had to be a clone. No one as controlling as this new cape would be willing to work out of someone else's home territory, not without very good assurances.

It made Coil wonder what this new cape would have done if Coil _had_ invited him to his base, but he dismissed the daydream outright. Two o'clock didn't give him a lot of time to prepare, but more importantly, the same could be said for his opponents, which was the intention. Coil called up his primary team of covert assets, mercenaries who were able to think instead of just shoot when told to do so, and sent them to surround Somer's Rock without being seen. They would also track anyone who was coming into or out of the area, in case Coil could find something useful in the information later.

Coil called the captain of the mercenary team currently in charge of overseeing construction at his future base of operations and had him dedicate two of his men to watching the camera feeds from around the Undersiders' base, just in case. He also put the captain on high alert, because one can never be too paranoid.

Using the same logic, he sent Circus a text to put her on standby, and told her to head towards the area of Somer's Rock but not to get within five miles of the actual location. Then it was time to call Creep and begin the process of safely transforming from "Thomas Calvert home sick with the stomach flu" to "Coil, dangerous villain mastermind."

* * *

When Coil arrived at Somer's Rock at promptly two o'clock, his mercenaries had not yet informed him of anyone else who had gone into the pub. Either his opponent was late, or he had already been in Somer's Rock when he and Coil had been texting. Coil got out of the back of the van, tapped it twice to tell Creep to drive away, and strode without pause into Somer's Rock.

It had been overcast outside, but the pub was still dim enough to force Coil to take just a moment's pause while his eyes adjusted to the darker interior. As he did so, he could see a figure standing up from one of the tables in the center of the room, leaving three others seated. So his opponent had brought in all his firepower, had he?

Coil's vision focused, showing him a short cape wearing heavy black combat pants, a black shirt that was skin tight, but not protective as far as he could tell, and a white visor over a black domino mask, made of some sort of hard material that seemed crafted to fit his face and the visor. No, not his face - her face. The short blond hair was deceptive, but closer examination of her figure suggested his opponent was female.

"Coil," she said, nodding in greeting but not extending her hand. She gestured toward the table, which could seat eight. His opponent had risen from the far head of the table, a place of power emphasized by the three filled seats around her. Coil did not advance to sit at the foot as she indicated, but remained standing, forcing her to do so as well. She'd walked around the table to greet him, leaving her people behind. This was the best power play available to him at this time.

A glance toward the table, contemptuous, both told her what he thought of her posturing and let him take in his opponent's underlings. Tattletale was seated farthest from the head, next to a cape in a black body suit and a blue visor with white tracing that both did and didn't match the rest of his blue armor. The look felt incomplete, like the costume had been assembled recently or cobbled together from multiple sources. The last cape was clearly recognizable as Beetle, and told him exactly who he was dealing with.

He glanced back to the cape closest to him, and saw her smirk. "Contract," he said as he tipped his head. Her smirk widened, clearly pleased that he'd figured out who she was, but that he hadn't known when he walked in. "I did not expect to see you here."

Contract shrugged, turning her back to him as she went to retake her seat at the table. It must have been Intrepid who was sitting at her right hand, Tattletale next to him, with Beetle positioned to Contract's left. "Please take a seat, we have much to discuss."

As far as Coil knew, neither Beetle nor Intrepid was a striker, so sitting at the table put him only at a psychological disadvantage and not a physical one. He took the seat next to Beetle, who barely twitched as he sat. Tattletale was watching everyone closely; the vulpine grin he was so familiar with nowhere in sight. She was nervous.

Coil remained silent, letting Contract begin the conversation, while Thomas Calvert accessed the PRT databases. According to the access records, none of Contract's Wards were currently in the base, and hadn't been since Thursday afternoon. All of the Wards had been called in on Wednesday evening, and Clockblocker and Beetle had both missed school to be on-base on Thursday, but there was no indication of why. Had Tattletale run to the Wards, somehow bypassing the PRT procedures? Was this a trap?

Coil refrained from dropping the Somer's Rock timeline and reverting to the safety of the Thomas Calvert timeline. He'd learn more about the Wards' schemes if he let this play out a little while longer, and there was no sign that either self was in immediate danger.

"I'd like to talk to you about the future of the Undersiders," Contract declared. Coil cocked his head to show he was listening, but didn't respond. Contract didn't take the bait, simply looking toward his head, presumably trying to meet his eyes, though neither of them could see each other's gaze under the masks.

Finally the silence had stretched long enough that Coil felt he had to reply. "I don't believe you."

She smirked again, and tipped her head in the slightest acknowledgement. "I don't expect you to. Out of curiosity, which are your greatest objections? I'll gladly address them by your priority."

It was an interesting ploy on her part, to challenge him to challenge her. "You're a hero. The Ender," he sneered the name and a sharpening of her smirk hinted at her own contempt. She also sat marginally straighter, which he supposed meant increased confidence. She'd expected that to be his objection. Time to throw her off her game. "And you'd never submit yourself to me."

Intrepid shifted slightly, unsettled by this declaration. The others held their poker faces until Contract leaned back, relaxing rather than retreating, with a cynical laugh.

"Submit? No, I wouldn't. And I won't do you the disservice of pretending you'd believe me if I protested otherwise. But that doesn't mean we can't work together."

"As a member of the Undersiders?" he mocked.

"As their replacement." She gave that statement a moment to sink in, and Coil allowed her dramatics in the interest of hearing what she would say next. "I have no interest in working with a pair of sociopathic murderers. But I honestly can't think of anything those four could do for you that my team cannot do better."

Coil wondered if Contract was simplifying Bitch's mental state, if Tattletale had lied to her, or if the mistake of calling Bitch a sociopath came from some other source. "And Grue?" he probed, assuming that if Contract knew there were two murders on his team then Tattletale had given her dossiers on the rest of the Undersiders.

Contract shrugged, still relaxed. "I have no use for a man whose leash is held by your threats."

"As opposed to your own," he answered immediately.

"Obviously," she sneered back, not missing a beat. As much as he knew this had to be a trap, it didn't feel like Contract was faking anything.

"And why would you wish to be a villain?" he asked, knowing it was expected of him. He would play to their script, while Thomas Calvert continued to try to figure out what was actually going on. There was no record of any sort of Wards investigation, but Clockblocker and Beetle had ostensibly missed school time for "essential teamwork exercises," which he didn't believe for a moment.

Contract snorted. "Why the hell would I wish to be a hero? I've received nothing from the PRT worth keeping."

"The bounties for the Endbringers are tied to your Ward trust, requiring that you graduate as a Ward if you wish to access them."

Contract's smile turned dangerous, but she didn't seem concerned that he knew about her financials. "If I wanted money, I would have held the world for ransom before I killed the Simurgh."

"If not money or accolades, what _do_ you want?" Coil had avoided interacting with Contract as Thomas Calvert as much as possible, and hadn't done any but the barest research on her before today. He'd considered her untouchable, and so he had no idea how to move her now.

"Power," she said, frank and open. Intrepid's head twitched in a way that meant he was giving her a look of some sort. She didn't take her eyes off of Coil as she continued. "I want the kind of power you enjoy, the kind of power bought by owning eighty mercenaries and a half a dozen capes, with more on the bench as needed. I want the thrill of being the most powerful person in the city, even if no one else knows it. I want to do what I want, when I want, because I want it."

"And what is it you want to do?" he asked, bypassing the bait of her rather accurate estimates of his forces. He assumed that Tattletale had figured it out and told her, for which the girl would have to pay. Even if this wasn't a trap, her disloyalty could not be allowed.

"I want to root out the gangs, and crush petty crime in general. I want to end the slave trade, and clean up the city's prostitution. I want safe streets at night. I want a shining city and most of all, I want to do it under the noses of the Protectorate while they stand by helplessly and watch. I want to run them out of the city and prove that _I_ killed the drug trade and _I_ restored the shipping industry and _I_ did what they couldn't."

Her voice was venomous, and by the end of the rant she was leaning forward, nearly spitting as she talked, she was so passionate. Even with Beetle between them, he could reach out and touch her, she was pressing so far forward. If it wasn't the truth, it was a damn good act. Of course, the best lies contained truth, so it could be both.

"I don't believe you," he replied levelly. Anger flashed on her face for a moment, obvious even under the mask, before she composed herself and sat upright again. "It doesn't make sense with your previous actions, and I don't believe they," he flicked his fingers at her cohorts, "would betray their team and put themselves at risk for such a vision."

Beetle gave a hollow laugh. Contract had been opening her mouth to say something, but after a moment of thought she gestured to Beetle. "Tell him," she commanded.

Beetle turned her head to Contract, the first time he'd seen her move, he realized, and then looked back at Coil. The yellow lenses made her whole face look inhuman. For a moment, he wondered if she might actually be a case 53, before he forced himself to focus on her mouth. It was the only human feature he could see.

"I owe the Wards nothing," she hissed, and though it should have sounded angry… it didn't. It sounded creepy. There was a rustling as she spoke that he couldn't immediately account for. "They harbored Shadow Stalker," she continued, and Coil realized that the sound was the sound of bugs, moving both on her costume and somewhere else in the pub. They were echoing, or at least accompanying, her voice.

Nothing else was immediately volunteered, and Tattletale interjected, "Shadow Stalker was a Ward when she bullied you into triggering." Contract's head turned sharply toward Tattletale, and the thinker immediately dropped her gaze, chastened. Coil noted the moment with satisfaction. Evidently Tattletale wasn't as much Contract's asset as the other cape would like him to believe.

"So to avenge one trigger event, you're going to overthrow the local government?" he scoffed. Contract could not expect him to believe this lie.

"Don't be ridiculous," Contract answered immediately, still sitting upright but far more composed than she had been when he first challenged her battlecry. "My plans were in motion long before I found Beetle. It so happened that our interests aligned, and she's appropriately grateful."

"Plans? Do tell," he drawled with just a hint of mocking. It was his experience that those who were new to power often developed a particular bad habit, known as the monologue. Those who survived long enough killed the urge as they should, but if Contract was new to playing long-term games, she may not have had the chance to unlearn bad habits yet. This, combined with her confidence, might be enough goad her into revealing more than she meant to.

Sure enough, Contract's confident smile returned. "I wasn't certain I could destroy an Endbringer, not at first," Contract said softly, settling immediately into a storytelling cadence. It was almost disappointing, how easily he could manipulate her. "Behemoth was… a test run, you might say. A gamble. But it turns out I was worried for nothing, and it all went exactly as it was supposed to."

She leaned back, and Beetle turned her head from watching Coil to watching Contract. Evidently, she hadn't heard this before. Tattletale, too, was interested, but Intrepid looked indifferent.

"I submitted to the Protectorate for a number of reasons. It was useful to let them deal with branding, PR, security and the like while I recovered and evaluated the efficacy of what I had done. I also wanted to know if I could accomplish what I needed to do from the inside. I suspected it was impossible, but I wanted to be certain.

"Finally, it guaranteed that I was marketed as an S-class cape, rather than an S-class threat. Really, I feel almost flattered that they adapted their terminology on my account. I can think of three or four other capes that ought to count as S-class even if they aren't currently a threat, and yet I appear to be in a category all on my own."

Contract smiled a Cheshire grin, and Coil waited patiently for her self-congratulation to continue. He'd wondered why a cape as powerful as Contract would allow themselves to become tangled in the PRT's web, and had to admit that the scenario she laid out was at least as plausible as any sort of "hero's obligation," which had been his working theory up to this point.

"Of course, working with the bureaucrats proved to be just as impossible as I predicted. I fed Shadow Stalker to them on a silver platter when she was genuinely guilty and met nothing but resistance and resentment for my efforts. The so-called heroes are nothing better than school children, and the PRT no more controls them than they control the gangs."

Thomas Calvert had actually witnessed the blow up between Contract, Shadow Stalker, and Renick. It certainly fit with what Contract was saying now.

"Of course," her smile turned predatory, "I got Shadow Stalker in the end. I always get what I want, one way or the other." She let that grim statement hang in the air, then like a good narrator she left the juicy hint hanging and introduced the next arc of her tale. She was a good showman, in more ways than one.

Knowing now who the capes were, it was easy to see that Intrepid had repurposed most of his original armor, simply changing the undersuit, and Contract wasn't actually wearing protection, just casual clothes worn with enough confidence to give the feel of a costume. Even so, the four of them looked complete, each of them in black with various relief in other colors. Even Beetle's costume, whose construction he couldn't make heads or tails of but which her Wards file said was made of spider silk, fit the feel as it glinted in the low light.

"The Simurgh surprised me, I admit," Contract continued, as Coil kept trying to judge her sincerity. If she was lying, she was _very_ good, but it was more probable for her to be a good liar than for this sort of golden egg to drop into his lap. "I was hoping to find a way to nix her publically before the next attack, but I didn't expect her to escalate. A mistake, but I made it work for me."

"You shared credit with Eidolon," Coil put in, mostly to have something to say. He had been fascinated by that decision too. Even if it had been the truth, why would Contract give up power like that?

"I shared _responsibility_ with Eidolon," Contract corrected him. "Four hundred people were dead, I wasn't going to risk having anyone put that on _my_ head. Besides, it suits my purposes for the world to believe that I am necessary, rather than sufficient, to destroy the Endbringers. And it's not like Joe Public even paid attention to that little detail. They aren't calling Eidolon the Ender, after all."

"Was that your idea?" He wasn't sure if it would raise or lower his respect for her if it was.

She shrugged. "No. A happy coincidence. I like having a title. It makes you more than just a person. The Triumvirate, the Endbringers, the Slaughterhouse Nine," she tasted each name as she said it. "Packs a little more punch than even, say, Nilbog, even if it shouldn't. The Empire, versus Kaiser." Her voice dropped on Nilbog and Kaiser, making the names sound less even if the lack of a title didn't do it for her.

She was right, of course. It was why he had named his team "the Undersiders" even before he created the group but purposefully downplayed his own importance by ensuring all paperwork in the PRT always referred to him only as "Coil."

He inclined his head in acknowledgement, and decided to prompt her to continue her story, rather than risk them getting onto a tangent. "So you've killed the Endbringers. This seems like the worst possible time to leave the PRT. They don't need you anymore."

"Don't they?" she asked, but she didn't wait for a response. "I killed the other Endbringers before I left on purpose. Again, I needed the protection of being a recognized hero when I did so. Being powerful is dangerous, it makes you a target, and I needed the Protectorate to tout the hero banner a little longer. I rallied the public, proved that I am both a political and financial force to be reckoned with, and got the rest of my ducks in a row."

She glanced over toward Tattletale, who looked down again, but Contract continued anyway. "I settled the affairs that needed settling, and then I went to find the appropriate carrier pigeon.

"I knew the Undersiders had to have a backer," Contract bragged as she turned back to him. "And I was pretty sure that it was either you, or that you were the face of that power, but you're a little hard to approach. Dear Lisa on the other hand…" Tattletale flinched at the use of her alias. Coil suspected that Contract was subtly punishing her for volunteering the comment about Beetle's trigger.

"I ensured Lisa had the details she needed to connect Beetle to myself, then let her walk right into our hands. And here we are."

"Finally," Intrepid growled.

Contract glanced at him with slight irritation, which she turned into mocking forbearance. "So impatient, Intrepid. So little _faith_."

Coil raised an eyebrow, even though Contract wouldn't be able to see it. "Do tell."

Contract waved a hand in the air. "We would have contacted you days ago if it wasn't for thinker bullshit. Someone, somewhere threw a flag that I was about to, well, do exactly what I'm doing. They just didn't understand what it was they had discovered, so they thought I was in danger of being kidnapped. Clockblocker was his usual pompous-ass self and put me under protective detail. It's made arranging this little get together a bit more complicated than I would have liked, but it did prove that having two Wards and a thinker of my own does have its benefits."

That fit with the facts that Thomas Calvert had been able to pull together. As remarkable as it all seemed, it might just be true. Of course, Coil had no intention of admitting that to Contract.

"And why do you believe that I would be interested in an alliance with you?"

The question seemed to put Contract on her back foot, which fit both possible profiles; it was equally valid if she was a domineering anti-hero or if she was an undercover Ward. She then got a little offended, which fit the first profile better but wouldn't be hard to fake. "Well, you either get on board or get the hell out of my way. Your choice."

She breathed in deeply, as though to rant again, but the influx of oxygen must have actually hit her brain, because she calmed down instead. "It was my understanding of you and your actions that we had similar goals. I apologize for wasting your time." She stood, and the others stood with her, even an extremely wary Tattletale who was glancing between them rapidly.

"I didn't say I didn't," he replied, and was pleased to see that she hadn't even started to step away. She remained standing, but it didn't intimidate him. "I have two more questions, and then we may discuss terms."

She studied him for a moment, and the movement in her jaw looked like she was chewing on her tongue. Finally, she swallowed her pride and capitulated. The others sat down much more eagerly.

"First, Intrepid, why are you sacrificing a long and illustrious record as a Ward for a girl you barely know?" Everything in Intrepid's file indicated that he was a dedicated hero who believed in the PRT mission and propaganda. If this was a sting, he'd have a prepared story, but Coil wanted to hear it anyway.

Intrepid glanced at Contract, and received her nod before he answered. "I thought I'd seen a lot of shit in Texas. I've been a Ward for three years, and that adds up to a lot of field time. Not an instant of it compared to being so close to Ground Zero. Contract didn't just erase Behemoth, she restored everything as far as the eyes could see. She rewrote reality. It opened my eyes to what ought to be possible, with capes."

He glanced at her again and got another nod. He continued, trying and failing to sound casual. He was not as good of a storyteller as Contract, and Coil suspected he hadn't spoken of this much, if at all. "Coming to Brockton Bay opened my eyes a different way. I saw the politics, with Shadow Stalker. I saw how the PRT was treating Contract. I knew she wouldn't put up with it for long; no one would have." He shrugged, "I decided to pick the winning team."

It was obvious that this was nothing more than the paltry excuses a boy might tell himself. Intrepid might want to believe that he was an anti-hero, defying convention because of some vision, but he was nothing more than a lap dog. He was infatuated with a girl who was far beyond his reach, even if he didn't know it yet. His psych profiles spoke of extreme loyalty, and it was easy for Coil to see that Intrepid had simply transferred that loyalty from his Texas Wards' team to the Ender when he moved to Brockton Bay, and with good reason. There was much more to respect in Contract than in anyone else he would have found in Brockton Bay.

More importantly, this was consistent with what he'd seen of Contract so far. She inspired loyalty and submission in those around her, as a product of her power and her showmanship. She had dealt with Shadow Stalker for her own reasons, but used the incident to gain Beetle's absolute trust and put the other cape in her debt. She'd taken advantage of Intrepid's isolation in a new town to set him with her against Shadow Stalker, gaining a second follower out of that little series of events.

"Your second question?" Contract demanded.

Coil had to take a moment to remember what it had been. "If you are under protective custody, how are you here?"

Contract sniffed, and raised both hands to gesture to the Wards sitting on either side of her. "I am in protective custody. Can't you tell?"

Coil waited, familiar enough with PRT protocol that he didn't buy the flippant response. After a bit, which Coil felt somehow sure had contained an eyeroll, Contract continued. "I convinced Armsmaster that if I didn't get out of the base and into a safe house, I was going to go mad. He tried to assign a rotating guard, but I argued that the constant coming and going would only be more suspicious. The three of us are supposedly somewhere in Boston at the moment, conveniently top secret. We won't be missed until Monday."

That was a little more plausible. It wasn't standard protocol for Wards to do overnight guard duty, but Thomas Calvert knew that Contract had insisted on her own team being in charge of her security before, directly after the Simurgh had been killed. In fact, she'd left the base with just Intrepid and Beetle later that day and had to be picked up by a PRT squad, if rumor was to be believed. Perhaps, when it came to the Ender, standard protocol took a back seat. It would be interesting to know what the Youth Guard thought of that, if leverage became necessary.

Contract leaned forward, "Now, to terms." She waited, forcing him to open the discussion. Making the first offer in any negotiation was a novice mistake, so Coil started with a demand.

"I want proof of that you're not just playing with me."

"Proof of human intentions?" Contract countered with her irritating smirk, telling him that she knew exactly what he wanted and was going to make him say it.

"I'm not putting my neck on the line until you do."

The smirk widened, again pleased that he hadn't fallen into her trap. So she, too, liked to be challenged. "Did you have a particular crime you'd like us to commit?"

"There's a girl I'd like you to kidnap."

Intrepid, Beetle, and Tattletale turned to look at Contract, who leaned further forward in anticipation. "Do you know her weight and the physical location where she will be sleeping tonight?"

Coil was caught slightly flat footed by her eagerness, but didn't let it show in his response. "Yes."

"Then let's negotiate what you'll be giving up in exchange for this girl." Her team looked back towards him, evidently satisfied to allow Contract to commit them to this crime. Contract had chosen them well.

"What do you want?"

"I want a demonstration of your power. Because if you don't believe I'm willing to do what it takes to achieve my goals, then I must admit I don't believe you have what it takes to achieve yours."

"There is power not measured by the PRT's little rhymes, or isn't it that power which you seek?" Coil said, thinking over possible ways to safely demonstrate his power, if she did turn out to be trustworthy.

"If you are not who and what I think you are, then you have nothing to offer me. Men? I can hire. Money? That too is no obstacle. You're smart, but if that's all you bring to the table then you simply aren't worth an alliance." The implication that he could work for her instead was almost too much to swallow.

Still, Coil forced himself to do so. If they delivered Alcott to him, he could use her power to be sure of their intentions and the potential risks. Then he could demonstrate his power without fear.

"Bring me the girl, and I will leave you no doubts as to my usefulness," he said, allowing a little threat to creep into his voice.

Contract met his eyes seriously. "Then we have a deal. The girl will be yours by tomorrow morning."

"Not tonight?" he mocked, pressing Contract a little, mostly to see how she'd react.

Contract scoffed, covering a deeper anger that was consistent with her dominant and combative personality. "The most successful stranger kidnappings occur between ten pm and one am, just after the parents are asleep, so that's when we'll go in."

"And you don't care why I want her?"

"A physical address will give us her name. I have confidence in my ability to see her value for myself."

Coil turned that over in his mind. He'd be surprised if she could see it, actually. Dinah had come to his attention only a few days ago, and he'd barely begun to work out how he could acquire her. Yet Contract felt confident in her ability to scope out the job and the victim in eight hours. It was either the height of hubris, or a demonstration of her unusual competence. Perhaps the latter had fed the former.

Thomas Calvert used a basic web search to find the address he needed, and Coil rattled it off as though it was memorized.

"And her weight?"

"85 pounds," Coil guessed. It seemed about right for a twelve year old.

Contract nodded easily. She didn't write down either piece of information. Perhaps she expected Tattletale to remember it, though the girl had shown no sign of perfect recall before. Perhaps Contract was recording the interview, or transmitting it to another partner somewhere. Or perhaps Contract herself had a perfect memory.

"How will you do it?" he asked.

"That's our business," she replied. "I won't tell you how to run your criminal empire; kindly don't try to tell me how to run my team."

Coil felt himself glance at Tattletale without really meaning to. He must have turned his head slightly, because Contract followed his train of thought. "Unless you'd like to insist that Tattletale go back to playing nursemaid for a bunch of teenagers whose _actual_ worth we've already established."

Coil thought that Contract calling the Undersiders a bunch of teenagers was a little rich, and he couldn't quite let that pass. "No, I agree that she's better served with this set of peers instead."

The tick in Contract's jaw said that his point had hit home, and he judged it was time to bring this discussion to a close. He had not managed to trip Contract up in any appreciable way so far, and he didn't think his chances would improve by extending the conversation. Now it would depend on her actions.

Contract evidently agreed with him. "Where shall we meet you, once we've retrieved the girl?"

Coil cocked his head, but Contract waited him out and made him ask. He assumed the powerplay was in compensation for his jab against her age. "Why not here?"

"Don't mock me," she snapped out, her temper getting the better of her. "I am not violating the truce of this place by bringing a hostage into it."

Ah, so she wasn't so mad she didn't remember whatever details Tattletale had given her about this place. It had been worth a shot. Before he could answer, she stood abruptly and again the three other teens stood with her.

"I will text you an address when it's ready," Contract said. Coil wanted to protest the heavy-handedness of that statement, but didn't. Her choice of location would reveal much and he could always argue by text if he didn't wish to meet her there.

Contract didn't wait for an answer before she swept out of the pub, her entourage behind her.

* * *

It was nearly three o'clock when Coil got to his base. Even though it was still under construction, he'd already set up the encrypted computer terminal and phone lines so it was the best place for him to lay low and try to figure out exactly what was going on.

Over the course of the next five hours, through the concerted efforts of both timelines, he eventually was able to piece together a better picture of his circumstances. By eight o'clock he had managed to confirm much of what he knew and suspected of Contract.

She _was_ aggressively dominant, stubborn when pushed and yet cunning in a way he wouldn't normally expect of a hotheaded teenager. She was dissatisfied with the PRT, and Calvert wasn't sure who was calling the shots on her case, but several someones had clearly dropped the ball when it came to placating the Ender.

The team dynamics were also as Contract had hinted and as he himself had observed a month ago. From the beginning of her stay in Brockton Bay, there were reports submitted by every Ward except herself and Intrepid that clearly showed the separation within the team, despite trying to hide it.

Renick hadn't paid the drama as much attention as he should have, probably because the Brockton Bay Wards had always been plagued by teenage drama. They were one of the biggest Wards programs, and they faced the most stress with the least structure. It was a recipe for disaster even without a schemer like Contract in the mix.

None of this meant that she wasn't lying, of course. If you assume an ally is cunning, you must also assume that same cunning can be used against you. Statistically, it was much more likely that Contract had successfully fooled him than that she had managed to manipulate the entire PRT. On the other hand, she admitted that she hadn't been fully resolved to become an anti-hero until just recently. As soon as she had started solidifying her plans, she's been caught by the PRT thinkers, delayed, and forced to adapt. That was more plausible than a clean manipulation.

He was relatively safe in both timelines, and saw no reason to drop either one just yet. In one, Thomas Calvert had not yet responded to Tattletale's text, but had put his forces on high alert. In that universe, Contract and her team had left Somer's Rock at 4:12 PM, which probably meant that they either had some sort of check-in they had to fake, or Contract had decided that the advantage of already being in Somer's Rock wasn't worth actually waiting around in Somer's Rock all night. Given what he knew of teenagers, he suspected the latter.

In the second world, Coil was in his base, surrounded by his mercenaries, waiting for Dinah Alcott to be delivered into his hands. If Contract was being serious and honest, she had just saved him weeks of planning and risking his resources. He had dispatched one of his most discreet individuals to watch the Alcott house. He had had no surveillance in the area before, not wanting to give the precog any evidence of danger to herself in case she tried to raise concern with her family. Now, however, he needed information on Contract.

If this was some sort of semi-legal sting, with approval from Armsmaster or others, the easy way of kidnapping Dinah would simply be to have her family bring her in to the police station where Alcott would be easy to retrieve, possibly even with her parents' consent. Coil intended to see for himself, or at least through his people, if Contract tried play him in this manner.

He had confirmed, to the best of his abilities, that the only differences between the timelines were the result of his own choices. As far as he could tell, nothing had been set up requiring either his presence or absence at the PRT. Nothing had changed in the timeline in which he didn't go to work.

So he was quite surprised when the light in his kitchen clicked on and Contract's voice said, "Hello, Tom."

Thomas Calvert reflexively reached for his gun, drawing it as he stood up, whirled around, and brought it to bear on the teenager lounging in the entrance to his kitchen, backlit by the light she'd flipped on.

"Or should I call you Coil?" She was dressed almost exactly as she had been in the other timeline, but a quick glance around indicated that they were alone. He steadied his aim on her, refusing to divide his focus again. "I don't appreciate being ignored."

Coil started snapping orders to his men, raising the alert level and putting his base on lockdown just in case. Until he understood what was going on, he had to assume that Contract was double crossing him. Thomas Calvert asked his intruder, "Who are you?"

Contract tsked but answered, "I'm a new prospect." She gave him a moment to remember the text, which he didn't need, before she said, "You should have agreed to meet with me. I greatly dislike being stood up."

"Why are you in my home?" demanded Thomas Calvert, PRT employee who had not received the text meant for Coil. Coil meanwhile was urgently thinking back, trying to recall any indication that Contract had known who he was that afternoon.

"When you ignored me, I admit, I was pissed. But I was able to use the circumstances to force Tattletale to tell us who held her leash. Not that she knew you as Calvert, of course, but even the name Coil was a start. I waited, and waited, and then I got tired of waiting. I decided if you wouldn't come to me, I'd find you. Really, getting your civilian name wasn't so hard." She seemed utterly unconcerned with the gun he was holding.

Coil wanted to believe it was true, that the Contract who had met him in Somer's Rock didn't know his civilian name because he'd given her no reason to look for it, but he couldn't chance it. It was wishful thinking and nothing more. He couldn't collapse the Thomas Calvert timeline, not yet, not when his Coil self might be compromised even worse. There was also a chance that the situation could be salvaged, or that he could learn something that would help him survive in his base.

Coil pulled up the surveillance feed around his house and base, but there was no sign of anything amiss in that timeline. Not yet, anyway.

"You know," she mused, "it's ironic. I reached out to you because I wanted to escape the PRT and bring it to its knees, but it turns out you're already two steps ahead. Using the PRT for your own gains. It's impressive, really. I underestimated you, and I don't do that often."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Thomas Calvert insisted, refusing to incriminate himself.

"Sure you don't," she mocked back.

"You're trespassing in the home of a PRT officer," Thomas Calvert said, gun still steadily trained on the Ender. "Leave, now, or I will arrest you."

She laughed at that, and it sounded genuinely amused. "Go ahead," she challenged. "I'm supposed to be in Boston under protective detail. If I'm found here, in your home, you will be subjected to every master, stranger, and cape protocol in the book. Assuming you aren't shot on sight, of course. I bet those results go over real well with Piggot. So sure, call in backup. _I dare you._ "

Thomas Calvert hovered between calling her bluff, continuing his own bluff, and giving up the game so that he could try to get more information from her. The last option made the most sense. "And what do you hope to gain, by confronting me in my own home and breaking the etiquette among capes?" he demanded, not lowering his weapon.

Contract's only sign of victory was a quirk of her mouth, a smirk that she ruthlessly suppressed. "I told you, I don't like being ignored."

"You couldn't have waited twelve hours?" he asked. Contract had repeatedly referred to his delayed response as a slight against her, which seemed unrealistic. He knew from his earlier encounter with her that she had gone to quite a bit of trouble to send that text, demanding days of preparation, but Contract had no way of knowing that he knew this. She was trying to put him on the defensive for an imagined offense, and it was time he pushed back.

"I'm under a touch of scrutiny at the moment, so no, I couldn't wait twelve hours." She glanced around the house, still apparently oblivious to the deadly threat he had raised against her. "Shall we sit?"

"You haven't even told me your name yet."

Contract shrugged. "Call me Sophie, call me Contract, call me the Ender." Coil stiffened, the closest he could come to faking surprise. He wasn't sure whether he would have recognized her without the other Wards as a reference point, and would rather have her underestimate him regardless.

Now Contract did smirk triumphantly, but she didn't straighten from where she was slouched against the wall, evidently not really caring if they sat. "You never said if you'd prefer Coil or Tom."

"It's Thomas," he snapped, deciding to call her Sophie to help himself differentiate the two encounters. He lowered the gun to his side, but didn't re-holster it.

"Thomas," she bobbed her head in agreement.

"What do you want?" he ground out, frustrated that she was able to make him feel like the supplicant in his own home.

"I told you, I'm a new prospect." Again, she baited him by not outright telling him she wanted to take over the Undersiders. She must have been practicing the conversation for awhile.

"You want to join the Undersiders?" he played along.

"Join, replace, upgrade… whatever." At least this time she didn't force him to profile her. "In my opinion, Bitch and Regent are both replaceable, more a handicap than an asset. And if you think I'm taking orders from Grue, your eyes need checking."

"You might as well declare you wish to work alone."

"Oh, I didn't say that. I've got a team, and I'd like Tattletale to be a part of it. I might even be able to find a use for Grue and the others, depending on the details. Most importantly, though, I want you to use your power to protect us as you've used it to protect them."

"Why should I?"

"I can make your vision a reality."

That was not what Coil was expecting. Sophie was playing a different face this time, less overtly commanding and more manipulative. The same undertones of control and cunning were present, but they were turned to a different persona, now.

"What would you know about my vision?"

"I know that you've been here in Brockton Bay for the better part of the last ten years. In that time, gangs have slowly gotten run off or have collapsed with unusual frequency. A city the size of Brockton Bay with only three major gangs? We're the only ones in the US. Granted, it's still a shit place to live, but you're working on that too, aren't you? You've got all sorts of infrastructure and construction companies in your portfolio.

"You've brought the drug trade under control in your territories, driving out the Merchants and turning it into a nearly respectable business. You've got the Undersiders out there poking Lung, trying to convince him to move along, which will leave the Protectorate free to go after the Empire. You're saving Brockton Bay."

It was a ridiculously rose colored view of his actions, even if the facts were mostly true. She was crediting him with slightly more than he deserved, but still well within reason. Interestingly, certain pieces echoed her earlier call to action. How much had Tattletale told her before the meeting at Somer's Rock? How much had the teenagers known then?

"Say I believe you," Coil said cautiously. "What exactly are you proposing?"

Sophie shrugged, and the motion moved her whole body because of the shoulder she still had resting against the kitchen wall. "We can help each other. I intended to throw off the shackles of the PRT and prove exactly what an S-class cape is capable of. For a myriad of reasons, I'd like to start in Brockton Bay. My job also becomes much easier if I have access to Tattletale's power, and yours. You, obviously, prefer the shadows, a luxury I no longer have."

"That doesn't answer my question," he insisted. This time it was his turn to demand first, "What is it that you want, tonight?"

"I want to see a demonstration of your power. Proof that you are what I suspect you to be." Again, she didn't actually state what power she thought he had. Coil chose not to pursue that. She leered at him confidently, "What is it going to cost me?"

"Dinah Alcott."

"I'm not familiar with the name," Sophie said, sounding honestly confused.

"She's a twelve year old girl and the niece of the mayor."

"Leverage? Really? Wouldn't blackmail be simpler?" she asked. "Or at least kidnapping his daughter, for that matter?"

"Why I want Dinah is not your concern," he corrected her.

Her face cleared in understanding. "Ah. Another cape." Well, credit where credit was due, she was quick. "Mental power, or physical?"

He debated whether to tell her, then decided to see how she reacted. "Mental."

"If I have her here by 4 AM, will you demonstrate your power, or do you need more time to prepare?"

Again, Sophie didn't seem at all worried about getting a girl kidnapped in an eight hour time frame, even knowing she had a thinker power to work against.

"You can't bring her here," he protested.

Sophie huffed and again he got the distinct impression she was rolling her eyes even though he couldn't see them. "Then give me a different address."

"I'll text it to you."

"And leave me holding the kidnapped niece of the mayor with nowhere to go? No, thank you," Sophie scoffed. He'd been hoping to goad her into using her own location, but she was being more conservative in this conversation. Perhaps she wouldn't have time to prepare it.

"You're that confident that you'll succeed?"

"That's really more my problem than yours, isn't it?" She pressed on not waiting for an answer. "You didn't say before - will this morning work or will you need more time?"

He was tempted to say he'd need time to prepare, to force her to kidnap the girl at midnight as he assumed she intended to do and then hold her for eight or nine hours until the family realized she was missing, but he wouldn't really gain anything in that situation except satisfaction. "I'll be ready."

She nodded. "See that you are."

He sensed that the conversation was coming to a close, and he didn't want to miss an opportunity to fish for more information. "Why?" She cocked her head, the cape equivalent of raising an eyebrow when one's mask covered one's face, so he elaborated. "Why would you want to be a villain?"

Her smile was sharp, and she didn't puff up in pride as she had earlier. Some of that show must have been for the benefit of the other teens. "Who says I haven't always been a villain?"

"That's not an answer," he pressed.

Sophie shrugged again. She was more tired now, a lot of her bravado and posturing gone. "I have gotten all I can from the PRT. All that is left is for them to suck me dry. I have no intention of martyring myself for a bureaucracy so screwed up that it's run by the very parahumans it claims to control."

She snorted. "As though I can or should be controlled." There was that dominance again. It had been far less evident in this second conversation, but Coil was starting to suspect that neither encounter had really been an act.

Coil inclined his head in silent agreement. "We still haven't agreed on a meeting place. I have a base of operations under construction. It isn't finished, but it should suit our purposes."

"Text me the address," she said, piquing his interest. Contract had shown no concern at needing to memorize an address, but Sophie wanted it texted to her.

"I'd like to meet your teammates as well," he told her as she straightened up.

Sophie paused, and he could feel her eying him, judging him. "I would have liked to get an answer."

So they were back to his having ignored her text. As an authoritative personality, it rankled her that he hadn't responded to her power play. "At least give me their names."

"They'll be there with me. I'll text you when the job is done and we're on our way."

"I'm surprised your team agreed to this little confrontation. Most capes hold civilian identities as sacred."

She scoffed, again. "I don't need their permission to do anything."

"They don't know you're here," he guessed.

She inclined her head. "They reacted about how you'd expect when I first hinted at this plan. I let sleeping dogs lie, at the time. If I'd told them I was going to find your name and house to pay my respects after you stood us up, they'd accuse me of allowing myself to be provoked into rash behavior."

"How ridiculous," Coil drawled in reply. She laughed lightly at that. It was doubly ironic. First because she had, in fact, been provoked into her current course of action. Beneath that, though, was the contrast that even having been provoked, she wasn't _rash_. She'd confronted a powerful villain in his own home and still not only gotten what she wanted, but seemed comfortable doing it.

"I'm glad you see it my way," Sophie joked back. She sighed, sounding a little reluctant, then said, "I suppose I ought to get going. Crime to plan, and all."

"Good luck," he said mostly to have the last word. She gave him a sharp smile, but didn't reply. Instead, she turned back to the kitchen, planted both hands on the counter, and managed to slide out of his kitchen window as simply as though she was walking through a door. Coil turned to his computer, pulled up his surveillance, and watched the cameras on the exterior of his house.

She pulled a ski mask over her head, covering her blond hair and visor and making it much harder to see her in the dark night. Then she strode away quickly, not glancing around but not stopping either. He continued watching the feed for a long time, but never saw any signs of anyone else leaving, so if she'd had hidden back up it had been outside his camera range. Beetle, perhaps, depending on the radius of her power. More likely she had been alone, as she claimed.

Even as Coil was at home, working discover out how Sophie had known his identity and when she'd figured it out, Coil was sitting in his base with his fingers steepled in front of him, thinking.

It was possible to explain Contract's actions self-consistently. In both timelines, she comes into contact with Tattletale, perhaps through Tattletale's ambition or perhaps through her own schemes as she claimed, and guesses or is told that the Undersiders have a sponsor. Contract decides she wants to meet this sponsor, to petition for his support for her own plans and team.

In one timeline, this ploy is successful. This success makes her proud, which increases her aggression. She brings her entire team as a show of force, and postures her way through their encounter. She's in neutral territory, she's just enjoyed the success of forcing him to meet with her, she has her own two minions to control, his minion to impress, and himself to sway.

In the other timeline she is ignored. She wastes hours of time on grandstanding that comes to nothing, except perhaps to convince Tattletale to give up details about the sponsor, if Contract's story can be trusted. Contract then takes her team somewhere else, and within four hours has found Coil's true name. She learns that the sponsor is not only a powerful villain but a PRT captain.

This feeds her contempt of the PRT, increases her estimation of him, but also gives her reason for caution. She approaches him alone, relying on her wit to pique his interest instead of her earlier shows of force. She has greater reason to believe he will agree with her cause, but also a more precarious negotiating position, so she is more cautious, less the showman and more the chess player. She gives him far less information, perhaps viewing him as a more dangerous opponent.

It is a neat theory, it fits the facts as he knows them and explains Contract's behavior. It is self-consistent with what she told him and what he observed in both timelines.

That being said, given the information he had from both timelines before she entered his house, he would not have expected her to do what she did. If you cannot predict your opponent's actions, then you likely do not have enough information to explain them after the fact, either.

But what would be her purpose, if it wasn't what she pretended? There was no need to trap him into conspiracy for kidnapping, if what he'd done was even considered conspiracy, because there were already arrest warrants out for him. A sting operation should have closed in on him as soon as he'd confirmed himself as Coil in the second timeline, and yet a review of the footage of his house showed that she'd come alone.

Contract had climbed his back fence, leapt nimbly from the fence to his roof, then laid on her belly to reach the electrical box for his security system. In this way, she'd avoided the pressure pad in front of it. Inspection of the work she left behind showed that she hadn't disabled the alarms, which would have triggered a secondary circuit. Instead, she'd spliced in a lightbulb, and disconnected all the wires which sent alerts to his house, computer, and cell phone. Then she'd strolled over to his kitchen window, slid it open silently, and disappeared into his house.

If it wasn't a sting operation, and it wasn't an honest defection, what was left? Spying? If Tattletale had told them anything, he was certain she would have told them about his ability to root out spies, secrets, and lies. He could believe that Contract was a consummate liar, but the other two teens?

Granted, neither had said much during their meeting in the first timeline and neither had been present in the second. Unfortunately, that fit equally well with the theory the Wards were lying to him as it did the theory that Contract was a dictatorial rebel.

There _was_ something about Contract's declaration of rebellion that felt real to him. It was so… typically teenager. Her idealistic goals, her condemnation for the entire PRT organization based on the case of Shadow Stalker alone, her arrogant willingness to kidnap a twelve year old for her own purposes, it all smelled like a teenager with a lot of power who was eager to finally slip her leash and use it.

Even the speed at which Contract expected everything to happen - she was disturbed by a delay of eight hours? Really? So disturbed she broke the unwritten rules? - was a symptom of classic teenage impatience. The posturing, the self-assertion, even trying to steal Tattletale from him were basic social maneuvers that teenage girls in particular seemed to relish among their peers.

It was a nice story. Every detail accounted for, every motive explained.

But was it true? Coil wasn't sure if there was any way to tell except to wait and see if she brought him Dinah.

Coil hadn't chosen the crime at random, when he'd twice insisted that Contract kidnap the precog. Assuming she was sincere, the advantages were innumerous. It forced Contract to absorb the risk of discovery and complications of power tricks from the new trigger. It gave him a chance to observe Dinah's power, and to see how or if Contract's apparent precog-resistance counteracted it.

It was also the best crime he could think of to test her degree of commitment and candor. Kidnapping a little girl was pretty high on society's list of despicable acts, particularly a girl who was innocent and whom Contract had reason to believe was going to be used for her powers, which she was. More tellingly, there was no way that the PRT, Protectorate, or Wards would sanction bringing a twelve year old civilian into a sting operation, even a powered one. If Contract showed up with Dinah, it would prove that she was at least working outside the law.

That didn't guarantee that she didn't intend to betray him, of course, but it would at least mean that she didn't have squads of backup on call.

For now, there was nothing to do except wait. The Coil sitting at home texted the location of his base to Sophie, then left for his bunker to wait for her reply. He would spend the time trying to trace how and when she'd discovered his secret identity.

The Coil sitting in his base checked his phone again, still seeing no message from Contract indicating that she'd chosen a meeting location. She was likely going to force him to come without giving him time to prepare. It was both good planning and another show of dominance. He'd let her have her games. If he didn't like how it went, he'd drop the timeline and revert to the Sophie reality.

Coil didn't want to do that. He was itching to drop the world in which he had conclusive proof that someone knew his identities, but he couldn't move too soon. Destroying the secondary world meant committing himself to his earlier encounter, and giving up the chance to discover how Sophie had discovered his name. Additionally, there were advantages in having timelines which were widely divergent. If Contract or Sophie did betray him, it was extremely unlikely she'd manage to do it simultaneously after such different beginnings.

It was safer to keep the lines separate, and so he would.

You could never be too careful.


	40. Plans and Executions

**Chapter Forty: Plans and Executions**

 **April 9, 2011**

The times when Jason had been honestly afraid of Fi were few and far between. He'd gotten the sense, occasionally, that Fi could be dangerous. He'd certainly seen her do impossible, unthinkable things. The sort of things it would never have occurred to him to do.

But somehow the power that Fi could wield just didn't register, normally. She deferred to Clockblocker and Armsmaster (mostly), she joked around, she made mistakes and laughed them off. It was easy to call her Fi in her costume or not, because she acted like just another normal teenager. Even when she was talking about impossible things, or her own less-than-ideal past, or whatever else, she addressed them so casually that you just started taking things like sudden deafness and the potential to wipe out souls in stride.

By contrast, the girl before him right now was easy to think of as Contract. She was focused, driven, and unrelenting. Ever since she'd made the off-hand comment about Coil not being a "time lord," she'd turned into a force of nature.

She texted Armsmaster all the way back to the base, then handed Jason a list of things to go collect while she talked to Armsmaster in his lab. The supplies were extremely varied, but were all available to him as a Ward, ranging from a basic first aid kit to a generic black body suit in his own size to grappling gear. Jason would almost say that Contract was planning on going after Coil immediately, but he knew she wouldn't defy Armsmaster like that.

By the time Jason had gathered all the supplies, Clockblocker and Contract had the rest of the team gathered in the main room.

"Okay everyone, Armsmaster has just increased this situation to a class R," Clockblocker announced grimly. R was two levels below being an A-class situation. It didn't indicate a general threat and it didn't summon outside help, but it was the most serious a local situation could be and still be contained by a single team. "Don't ask why, he didn't say," Clockblocker added immediately.

"What this means for us is that Intrepid, Contract, Beetle, and Tattletale are leaving the PRT base immediately. They'll be relocating to a bolt hole that Tattletale has previously set aside, and we'll be doing most of our coordinating remotely. Each of you might be asked to perform small tasks that are part of a larger picture. For now, do not share anything with another team member unless you are told to do so."

Clockblocker glanced at Contract as he paused, and she stood up while he continued. "Contract is the person in charge of the infiltration team, which as of this moment is the Anti-Hero Team. We who are staying here are the Base Team. Details will follow, but for now, inform your parents that you won't be home for the next three days. We are all going into isolation as part of our cover."

Clockblocker looked to Contract again, and she spoke up next. "Everyone needs to eat heavily over the next three days. Armsmaster asked me to lay down a deal so we didn't have to sleep, and the cost is that anyone who wants to stay up is going to need three times as many calories as normal. If you want to opt out, you can."

She picked up a bag that had been sitting next to her chair. "Anti-Heroes, let's go. Tattletale is waiting with Armsmaster in the garage. She's been briefed separately."

* * *

Once they had reached Lisa's safehouse, Contract laid out the rest of the plan. The basis was still the same as what had been previously approved, approaching Coil on Saturday under false pretenses, but Armsmaster, Clockblocker, and Contract had evidently worked out a large number of details that the rest of them hadn't considered.

If Coil had spies in the PRT, couldn't they check the Ward's log-in records? Wouldn't they see that the entire team had been putting in extra hours?

The cover for that change of schedule was a supposed security threat to Contract that had put the Wards on high alert. Only the threat wasn't really a threat; it was Contract getting ready to betray the Wards. Then, Contract had been "moved to Boston" for her own safety, while the rest of the Wards were kept out of school to help divert attention and keep up a charade that Contract was somewhere in Brockton Bay. Contract explained that this move to Boston was what the Anti-Heroes were supposedly using to let them reach out to Coil.

The layers and layers of lies were enough to make his head spin, and that was before they sat down with a print out of every check-in and check-out he'd made in the Wards' base in the last week and ensured that it could be made to fit into his new cover story.

The three schemers had put together basic cover stories for the Anti-Heroes, but there was a lot of refining to do to make sure that it was a role he could play convincingly and that it would fit with the facts that Coil's spies might be able to prove.

In this, the early tension with the other Wards worked in their favor. Contract and Beetle's alternate selves practically wrote themselves, but he was stuck until he started looking at it not as betraying the Wards but sticking with Contract. He wasn't totally comfortable playing the loyal, never-protesting lap dog because he was pretty sure he had more spine and sense than that, but it was much easier than trying to mimic Contract's brusque, selfish calculation or Beetle's cynicism.

The need for the body suit became readily apparent: he moved his armor from one undersuit to the other, and except for the white in his visor he looked very convincingly like an edgy vigilante or darker independent hero. Beetle's costume was already dark and made scarier when she started carrying bugs around in the creases of it.

Tattletale retrieved her black and lavender costume and mask from somewhere in the safe house, and Contract exchanged her trademark jeans-and-white for dark cargo pants and a black shirt. She had Beetle add some black armor around the edges of her white visor, the only visible trace of her Wards' costume she kept, though she was wearing the silk-spider shirt under her black overshirt.

Once they were partially settled and understood the game plan a little better, Contract and Intrepid left Beetle and Tattletale to secure the safe house and scope out the neighborhood. They left the safe house in civilian garb, used cash to get on a city bus, and rode it to Winslow.

"Turn off your comm," Contract said as she directed him to sit under the bleachers, "just in case." It was after the regular school hours by now, and anyone who saw them would assume they were two junkies or perhaps lovers with nowhere better to hang out. Jason reached up and did so, glancing around.

"What are we doing here?" he asked, though he was pretty sure he knew the answer. It still needed to be said.

"You're my second. There are things you need to know, operationally, that the other two don't."

Jason nodded, knowing he was the best candidate for the job but wary of what it might require. He'd only worked undercover a few times before, and he was always glad when it was over.

Contract continued, "The main goal of our overarching plan is to have some way to force circumstances to follow our pre-laid plans. Coil's power manipulates situations, and we're going to try to force them back."

"I don't understand."

"The moment we react to Coil, we have to assume his power is in control. But if we make plans now, his power isn't currently affecting them, so we can trust them."

"Okay, that much I followed. So what?"

Contract pulled some loose change out of her pocket and laid a line of coins in the dirt in front of them. "We're going to create some nodes, events that we're going to force to happen. No matter how Coil's power pushes the circumstances in his favor, we're going to push back to get to one of these nodes, if at all possible. For example, if his power is precognitive, it will foresee our efforts to do manipulate the situation and escalate. Which means we'll have to escalate also if we still want to reach the node. But when we end up at the same node anyway, chances are his power foresees that it didn't gain anything, and drops back to whichever circumstances are in Coil's best interests."

"I don't follow," Jason insisted. He thought he could see where this was going, but he didn't want there to be the slightest chance for miscommunication.

Fi nodded patiently, not seeming to be put out at having to explain again. "Assume his power is probability manipulation, and we want to force him to run down the west street when we chase him. The best way to do that is put our forces on the east street. His power tells him that to maximize probability of staying uncaught, he needs to run west. If he tries to run east anyway, we escalate, possibly up to lethal force. This makes coming east even more unlucky, and his probability manipulation pushes him even harder to run west."

"And if it's not probability manipulation?"

"Okay, assume it's straight precog. He thinks about going west, sees himself free, thinks east, sees death."

"I don't get how that helps us, though. Coil still ends up free, right, or his power wouldn't work?"

"He's free at that specific moment. Armsmaster and I are counting on two assumptions. One, that Coil's power doesn't do any work until he tells it to. That's why Lisa gets last minute advice or late-game 'go' or 'no go' commands. He sets up his power, says 'go' or 'no go' and then does whatever he does. It's also a good explanation for why Lisa was able to come to the Wards.

"That's what makes it critical we plan now, before his power is active. The second assumption is that his power has a time limit. He can't change or foresee or affect or whatever it he does for longer than two days, hopefully less, closer to twelve hours. So we set up three days' worth of nodes, and we've out-gamed his power."

Intrepid tried to wrap his head around that, and could sort of see where she was coming from, but knew it would be easier to conceptualize with a practical example. "So what nodes did you have in mind?"

"Well, we're cleared to make contact at noon on Saturday, so the first node is that we text Coil at 12:13 PM, no matter what. Even if he's committing a public crime, we still initiate contact." She touched the first coin in the line, a quarter. "At that time, the Anti-Heroes will already be in Somer's Rock."

"We can't use Somer's Rock to trap him," Intrepid protested. When that idea had come up in planning, it had been shot down by Tattletale, Vista and by Contract herself, once she understood what Somer's Rock was. They all insisted that they abide by the general rules of civility, and Intrepid had absolutely agreed.

"No, it's just a show of power to be there before him, and that means being there before he has reason to use his power." Intrepid nodded to show he understood, and she continued, drawing two arching lines away from the quarter, toward the other coins. "He either shows or he doesn't. If he does show, we proceed to node two." She indicated a dime, as she arced the first line back to this node. "If he doesn't, we confront him."

Intrepid opened his mouth, but she waved him off, "I'll come back to that."

She pointed at the dime named node two. "Node two is that we get him to solicit us to commit a crime. It shouldn't be hard to do; he won't trust us and he'll want something to prove our sincerity and hold over us. Most crimes are most successfully committed at night, between ten pm and two am, so no matter what he asks us to do, we proceed to node three." He assumed that meant the nickel, but she didn't immediately move her focus away from the dime.

"Ideally, this crime will be something he actually wants done. This gives us more negotiating power because it reveals something about his current plans, and gives us something he values. If he gives us a crime that can only be committed during the day, or that doesn't seem important enough, we force him to choose another.

"Node three is that we successfully commit the crime, hopefully between 11:30 pm and midnight. This is now twelve hours after the initial contact, and might be beyond the reach of his power. We don't know, but we can hope. We still plan as though it's not, of course. We finish up the crime, then meet up with Coil as close to 12:30 PM as we can manage."

She looked up from her demonstration, totally serious. "This is where it gets tricky. We have to force him to demonstrate his power. I don't know exactly what it is, and I don't care what it does, I just want him to do something observably weird. If we can do that, if we force him to focus whatever he can do into that moment, then we've got him. If not, we have to proceed to node four."

"What's node four?"

"Armsmaster arrests all four of us, for whatever crime we committed. During the takedown, I do a really good impression of killing him. You can escape with me or not depending on your own best judgement. This happens at eight am, and I get in contact with Coil again, and run through nodes five through eight, at each node trying to force him into demonstrating his power. I don't like nodes five through eight."

"Why not?" In his own opinion, Intrepid wasn't a huge fan of nodes three or four, either. He could see why it was a good idea to try to set certain events in stone - if nothing else it would give them a much better idea of the strength of Coil's power, and possibly even its mechanics - but he didn't like the stones that had been chosen.

"Nodes five through eight require the Triumvirate. They'll probably respond anyway, if the Ender goes off the deep end and kills her Protectorate team leader and legal guardian, but if not, then I'll keep escalating until they do."

"Is that really necessary?"

"Yes." Intrepid wasn't expecting such a stark, simple answer. She sighed and elaborated. "If he gets through node four without demonstrating his power, it indicates that he is extremely smart and extremely powerful. If he gets through node five, that makes him smarter and more powerful again, at least A-class power level. Each step is an escalation, and our game has to escalate in response. If we can get him to demo in node 2, we will, but I doubt it."

She hesitated, then added, "If it makes you feel better, faking his death is Armsmaster's idea, and he came up with or approved every escalation we have planned. We also have established codes to end the escalation at any time, as well as codes I have to receive before I advance. I am not going rogue here."

It did make him feel a little better, but not much. "Why the focus on the demonstration?"

"Mental powers, subtle powers, aren't easy to demonstrate or prove. Whatever his power is, if we can force him to use it on something showy, then he most likely isn't using it on us. It's possible that he can do something obviously unnatural and still have firepower in reserve, but it's not likely. Our paranoia has to stop somewhere, and Armsmaster and I agreed that this is an appropriate threshold.

"Node three and each node after has an associated time. If he has demonstrated his power before that time, we take him into custody on the assumption that his power is tied up in the demonstration, or at least limited by its use therein. If he hasn't demonstrated, we wait. It's like a node within a node."

"Do I get to know those times?" Intrepid asked.

" _I_ don't know those times. Armsmaster is choosing them, and for now the information is only in his head for the sake of operational security. He'll give us the signal at the instant we're to attack, if we succeed in node three. If node three isn't successful, he may or may not decide to tell someone else the times depending on what we can prove or disprove about Coil's power."

"Okay, so what happens between the nodes?" He pointed to the blank spaces in the dirt. "What if he just runs away as soon as we text him?"

"We prepare now for future escalation that might be necessary to force him to each node. We don't necessarily plan on using it all, but we have to prep for the worst case scenario."

"What sort of preparations?" Intrepid asked, a bad feeling growing in his gut.

"A variety of things. The most important trump card we have is his secret identity."

Intrepid felt the blood rush out of his face. "You didn't. Damn it, Fi!"

"Not on purpose, no." She grabbed his wrist as he went to stand up, too frustrated to listen to another word. "I swear to you, it was an accident." He met her gaze through the glasses, close enough to actually see her eyes, and reluctantly sat back down.

"I stumbled across it," she told him. "I told Armsmaster, and he's approved me to tell you that we know, but not who he is. Armsmaster and I are the only ones that know that. Not even Clockblocker knows that I found it."

She paused, and then said, "I'm sorry. It wasn't… I never wanted to put your family in danger."

He studied her face even as she searched his expression, visibly nervous about his reaction. Jason knew she was telling the truth; it was obvious from her voice and her anxiety, so he ran a hand through his hair in frustration and nodded. "Yeah, okay. We'll talk later about how you _accidentally_ figure out something like that in the space of six freaking hours." He forced himself to take a deep breath and try to refocus. He reminded himself that Armsmaster knew and that the long-time hero would be taking the situation seriously. "So, if it comes to that, what's the plan?"

"Armsmaster and I are willing to use his secret identity if it becomes necessary, but only with extreme caution. In order to limit the risk to the team and preserve the unwritten rules, we need to make it look like Coil violated first. We're going to plant fake blackmail photos, if and only if it becomes necessary."

"Whose idea was that?"

"Armsmaster's. But I didn't protest. I am just as guilty."

Intrepid wasn't done being terrified for his family just yet, but this was a decision that was above his pay grade. He needed to focus on the mission, for now. "So how will this work? Why even tell me this much?"

"I need your help faking the blackmail photos. You'll take pictures of me around school in a variety of civilian outfits and then Armsmaster will Photoshop other kids into them to make them look like surveillance photos from a long-distance camera. Then those pictures, along with others he's isolating from various city sources of myself in costume will be mailed to me at the PRT.

"We will do that today, so that they've already arrived by the time everything happens on Saturday. If we need to go after Coil in his home, Beetle will use her power to plant the 'originals' in his house, though she won't know what she's planting, or why that house. The cape community will see it as self-defense."

Intrepid breathed deeply, thinking. Knowing that Contract and Armsmaster were using Coil's secret identity pissed him off, but he tried to think through the situation anyway. The last time he'd seen Contract this focused, she'd been facing down the Triumvirate and the myriad of corruptions therein. The last time he'd seen her so personally angry? She'd been raving against Sophia's campaign to attack Taylor.

He knew that Contract's heart was in the right place. She had to have a good reason for what she was doing, he trusted that, he just wished it hadn't come to _this_. But it had, and they had to get through it before they could get over it.

"We need to use me, instead." Her eyebrows shot high enough that he could actually see them over the edge of her glasses. "No one is dumb enough to blackmail you, and it wouldn't do them any good anyway because you don't really have a civilian identity. And there's a chance that the people screening your mail for bombs and poisons might find the photos before we're ready. He needs to go after me, and mail it to my family directly. I'll intercept it so they don't see it."

"Jason, if things go south that could endanger your family, possibly even expose your secret identity."

He swallowed. Yeah, he knew that. He also knew that Contract would go to hell and back for his family, if it became necessary. He was counting on that, in fact. It was the only reason Jason hadn't already walked away. Contract was willing to do a lot of things, but she wouldn't purposefully endanger civilians. "It doesn't matter. Not if this guy is as dangerous as you seem to think he is."

She studied his face, but he was serious. Finally, she nodded. She went to stand up, and this time, he caught her arm, holding her down. They weren't anywhere near finished.

"Who knows about the nodes?"

"Clockblocker and Armsmaster. Clockblocker understands the concept and knows the first three. He doesn't know that Armsmaster and I have five more worked out. Increased operational security is part of the node-to-node escalation I mentioned, so at each node less people know fewer details. Presumably, he'll react to Armsmaster's attempts to arrest us in node four by protesting our innocence.

"Armsmaster will then show him evidence that we really _were_ betraying the Wards, and that with Tattletale's help we successfully played them all. He's working on fabricating it now. After I fake-kill Armsmaster, Clockblocker will be the one to tell the Triumvirate what he thinks is going on."

"You've gotten a lot of planning done in a very short amount of time," Intrepid observed.

"The idea of using nodes was Armsmaster's, he was already working out a timeline when I went to him. Hunters have used informational nodes in the past against B&Bs. I'll explain that to you when this is over, it's not relevant except to say that when I took my ideas to him, we were basically already on the same wavelength.

"We figured out the broad strokes pretty fast and didn't second guess ourselves, not when time is of the essence. Clock joined us, soon after, and I've been texting Armsmaster whenever I have a spare moment since. He's writing back whenever he's got new information too, and Clock's doing the same, though not as much. The details are still coming together or shifting as we all adjust, just like your cover story shifted."

"What does he think about substituting me for the blackmail?"

She paused, but if she was sending a message Intrepid wasn't sure how. Did her glasses track her eye movement? Or was Armsmaster listening in to the whole conversation? It seemed like he had enough of his own work to do. "He agrees it's necessary, but he doesn't like risking you any more than I do. He's grudgingly pulling the photos of you in costume that we'll need."

"Then let's do this."

* * *

They spent the rest of that day, and that night, and all day on Friday preparing for contingencies. Knowing that Contract was in constant contact with Armsmaster was extremely reassuring, because a number of things they were doing were nowhere close to protocol. She and Clockblocker also talked privately occasionally, but for the most part they each worried about giving instructions to their own mini-teams.

The Base Team and Anti-Heroes hid tools, weapons, and supplies at various points throughout the city. They sent cryptic messages between burner phones at pre-appointed times, which could have any of a dozen meanings as necessary. They pre-purchased a number of items that would be useful for committing crimes.

At one point, Gallant questioned whether all the preparation was really necessary. Why did the Anti-Heroes really have to stay away from the base? Why couldn't they get checked in as visitors?

Contract's reply had given them a glimpse into her mindset and explained her intensity. "Think of good planning like time travel. We're already engaged with Coil, in the future. And in the future, he's going to ask his spies if there's any sign of us around the PRT in the past, right now, to verify our story. We want the spies to tell him no. Since we know that we are going to want it, we can give the gift to our future selves by making it true now."

Finally it was Friday night, and she insisted that everyone sleep, rather than extending the contract. They needed to let their brains rest, she said, and Intrepid could easily admit that he was mentally if not physically exhausted.

* * *

"Why the hell did you agree to kidnap a twelve year old girl?" Clockblocker demanded after Somer's Rock. "You should have demanded a different crime."

Contract had played the role of anti-hero so well Intrepid almost believed it himself, and she hadn't even flinched when she agreed to kidnap a kid who turned out to be Dinah Alcott. She'd had help from Tattletale who was feeding information to her visor, and probably Armsmaster too, but the reasons didn't matter. Her superior acting had made it easy to be his new self: the loyal lieutenant who believed in Contract after the realities of the PRT in Brockton Bay made him reluctant to trust the government officials.

Much to Clockblocker's dismay, Contract (or perhaps Armsmaster) had refused to have a live communications line to the Wards during the encounter, in case Coil had tinkertech capable of detecting it. They'd recorded the interview instead, and had sent the transcription and camera views back to the team but, with the possible exception of Contract, they'd been in there on their own.

"It's one of the better possibilities, really," Contract countered. "Simple to execute, and very informative. Tattletale has already deduced that she's a powerful precog, and only triggered recently. That puts us in a position of power. Coil wants Dinah badly, so he'll have to give us what we want."

Clockblocker sighed. They all knew she was right, but it was hard for the team leader not to be in the field, taking the risks with the rest of the anti-heroes. "We can't take a twelve-year-old civilian into a sting operation, even for just a few hours. It might make sense with the plan, but we can't take the risk. I'm sorry."

As far as Clockblocker and the others knew, the operation was definitely wrapping up tonight. If it didn't, the Anti-Heroes would be going "rogue." The others also didn't know that Contract and Armsmaster were keeping in touch, in case node four became necessary. Contract probably already had authorization from Armsmaster when she agreed to the crime, but Clockblocker didn't know that. Intrepid almost, _almost_ , wished that Contract hadn't told him about the possibilities of nodes four through eight. The stress was enormous.

"Of course I'm not taking Dinah to Coil," Contract agreed. "I'm taking Vista."

That gave them all pause, and Clockblocker waved Contract on. "We're going to break into the Alcott house, with Vista using her power to hide in one of our packs. We will wake up Dinah, and trust her precog power to tell her that she's not actually in any danger. We'll get the details of her power, whatever we need to let Vista fake it, and then we'll tie up Vista and take Dinah out in the pack we brought Vista in. Dinah goes into protective detail, Vista comes with us to Coil, pretending to be Dinah."

"Unless Dinah's already working for Coil," Gallant protested.

Tattletale answered him. "I'll be able to tell you if that's the case, and we can kidnap Dinah for real."

"What if Coil knows what Dinah looks like?" Vista asked, more than a little interested in the idea. Intrepid liked it too. He felt much better about trying to take Coil into custody if they had Vista already in the room.

"We should assume he does," Contract agreed. "You're about the same weight, so hopefully Dinah's clothes will fit, and we'll have you use a set of her pajamas for authenticity. You've got two hours to dye your hair and whatever else needs to be done to turn 'Vista' into 'Dinah.' We'll keep our fake Dinah blindfolded if possible, which will help disguise your face, and depending on how close the end result is we can put a contract in place for good measure."

"What happens in two hours?" Clockblocker asked warily.

"By then Tattletale should have a complete dossier on Dinah and the Alcotts, and Vista starts cramming her new backstory. Meanwhile, the rest of the Anti-Heroes plan our crime, and prepare a spot to meet Coil at later."

"Alright," Clockblocker said. "Everyone else, go get started. Contract and I need to have a private debrief."

The debriefing with Clockblocker was much shorter than Intrepid had expected, and soon Contract was standing next to Beetle, looking at their list of supplies and ready to launch herself into planning a kidnapping.

"He didn't walk you through the encounter?" It was standard procedure for undercover Wards to have to give an account to their handler for everything they said or did during an operation. Strictly speaking, it should have been a PRT adult who was helping Contract play her role, not Clockblocker, but they were trying to follow procedure where they could.

"We've got a lot to do. Clock and I will finish later. Can you find this stuff?" She held out the list of supplies, which she had annotated to show what they'd definitely want on hand for a kidnapping. "I need to talk to Beetle for a bit."

Intrepid took the list and went to make sure everything was in the safe house, rather than hidden around the city. He knew he was being dismissed so that Contract could give Beetle private instructions, but after the earlier bombshells he had no wish to eavesdrop.

* * *

Contract was disturbingly good at breaking into the Alcott household. First, she'd hotwired a car that was supposed to be getting maintenance at the PRT motor pool but which the Wards had previously parked not far from Lisa's safe house. Contract spread mud over the license plates and bumpers of the car, obscuring the plates and making it more unlikely they'd be stopped.

In their "stolen" ride, the Anti-Heroes (and Vista, using her power to hide in a small backpack of supplies) had driven right up to the Alcott's front door, taking a circular route that avoided city cameras where possible. Then Contract had parked in the driveway, hiked the bag over her shoulder, and walked up to the front door totally casually. An earlier survey of the property had uncovered a security system, which Contract had silenced but not disabled at that time. Now, all she had to do was pick the front lock.

When that was done, she waved to the rest of the Anti-Heroes. Intrepid, in the passenger seat, turned the engine of the Prius off and they all filed into the house behind her. As soon as they were inside, Contract opened the backpack so Vista could climb out, and implemented the contract that made Vista indistinguishable from Dinah Alcott. After significant discussion, the Wards had decided to buy twelve hours of fake identity in exchange for an open-ended period of the whole Wards' team needing extra calories, starting April 11th.

Once they had their fake Dinah, they ghosted up the stairs to find the real Dinah. Since Beetle was with them and watching the neighborhood, they didn't feel the need to post a watch or sentry. She'd reported one man watching the house when they drove up, which Tattletale told them belonged to Coil. Contract just reminded everyone to play their parts at all times.

Contract spread butter on the bedroom door hinges, then eased it open in one fluid motion. There was a slight creak, but not much. She immediately crossed the room to Dinah's bed, knelt beside it, and woke the girl by putting one hand over her mouth and using her other arm to pin down Dinah's torso. As previously agreed, Intrepid pressed down on the covers over her ankles, so that when she woke with a start, she had nowhere to go.

"We are not going to hurt you." Contract murmured, staring straight into Dinah's terrified eyes. The girl glanced around, her eyes going a little unfocused and then wide as she looked at Vista.

After a long moment, Tattletale whispered, "She doesn't believe us, but she's not going to scream."

Contract immediately took her hand off Dinah's mouth, but didn't release her chest. Intrepid didn't move either. Contract started explaining the situation in a low tone. "We're trying to take down a local villain, and he's got his sights set on you. For your protection and our plan, we're going to fake your kidnapping. Our teammate is going to replace you," Vista was already moving to the girl's closet with pajamas in her hands so that she could change into Dinah.

"We need your help. First, we need you to go into protective custody so that it looks like you've been kidnapped. We can't tell your family until it's over, which should be tomorrow morning. Second, we need to know what your power is so that we can fake it."

"I don't understand," Dinah whispered in a voice that was almost as loud as regular talking. "Before I went to sleep there was only a five percent chance that you'd come. And nearly a perfect chance that Coil wouldn't be fooled. Now your odds of capturing or killing him are above 60%."

Intrepid felt himself releasing her in pure shock at the clarity of those numbers, but Contract was nodding, rolling with the information as though she'd expected Dinah to be one of the most useful precogs in existence. "My power screws with precogs. How precise are those odds?"

"Down to the billionth if I'm not careful."

"Can you get odds on anything?" Beetle probed.

"Anything I can sort into two specific categories. Right now I've got quite a few questions saved up. I've been trying not to ask anything until I figured out a way to use them to avoid being kidnapped and drugged by Coil in the next two weeks."

"What are the chances of that right now?" Contract asked.

"30.9284%" Dinah answered with a glare. "Don't ask me anything like that. I can't help but answer or suffer the headache. And I don't know if that's me or her." She waved a hand at her closet where Vista was still changing. "Someone who _looks_ like me gets captured."

Contract winced. "Sorry. Didn't realize any question would set it off."

"How are we going to fake knowing the future to four decimal places?" Vista asked as she re-emerged in Dinah's pajamas.

Dinah looked at her consideringly. "I could give you the numbers, if I could talk to you."

Contract stared at Dinah, judging her even as Dinah had judged Vista. "I have strict instructions not to take you anywhere near Coil. Your safety has been made my current number one priority."

Dinah nodded. "The future is better for me if I'm on comms than if I'm in a safe house."

"And you're willing to take that risk, knowing that I mess with your power?"

Dinah paused at that, but eventually she insisted, "Yes. My odds are getting better with you, not worse. And that way, I can warn you if my numbers suddenly get worse."

Contract evaluated her for another long moment, then nodded back to her. Intrepid assumed that Armsmaster or Clockblocker or both had just approved the change of plan. "Okay. Good. Here's the new plan. Vista uses her power to expand the backpack, you get in and get carried out to the car. As previously arranged, Vista pretending to be you is walked to the trunk of the car at knifepoint and climbs into the suitcase we have hidden there. We drop the car off where we picked it up, and the three of us go to the meeting point.

"Beetle stays to set the car to rights and wipe it down for fingerprints. Before we go, I'll drop the backpack in the sewer, which will let you get out of it before we take Vista out of range. You wait for Beetle there, and then she can stash you on her way back to meet up with us. We'll have to trust your safety to secrecy, and the fact that Coil ought to be focused on Vista.

"Any objections?" She turned to all of them, but there were none. It was a minor change to the pre-existing plan, and Intrepid assumed that a secret "stash" location was one of the things that Contract had talked to Beetle about, given that Intrepid wasn't sure what she was talking about, but Beetle clearly was.

"Good. Let's go."

* * *

On their way back from scoping out the Alcott's house and disabling their alarm system, Contract and Intrepid had driven through the Docks and picked out a location to meet Coil at later. It was on the very edges of ABB territory, surrounded by buildings that were quiet but not quite abandoned.

It was almost a mile from where they needed to return to the car to, but with Vista in a wheeled suitcase, the journey wasn't as bad as it could have been. It was 12:10 am when Contract texted the address to Coil, and within five minutes Beetle had joined them, her work finished. She'd probably jogged to get there so fast, but Intrepid felt better when he was able to see for himself that she was fine.

Then they waited.

It was twenty-eight minutes past midnight when Beetle warned them that Coil and ten other passengers had just entered her range: one cape besides Coil himself, nine mercs, some with weird equipment.

Before she could say more, Coil drove up to, and then into, the warehouse they'd chosen, correctly interpreting the open doors as an invitation. When his two SUVs had passed the threshold, Intrepid flew up and shut the loading bay doors, locking the Anti-Heroes in with Coil had his men.

Contract had arranged the Anti-Heroes at the far end of the open space, with Vista - Dinah, Intrepid reminded himself - still trapped in the suitcase. Coil's SUVs stopped ten yards away, and by the time Intrepid had made it back to his team, the villain's men were all out of the vehicles. Coil was the only one not obviously armed in some way. With him was Circus, two men in hazmat suits, and seven others who looked like ex-military, all as well equipped as one might expect.

Contract stepped forward to meet Coil, hands shoved in her pockets. "Just one backup cape, Coil? I'm crushed. Surely you have more respect for me than that." Her tone was teasing, with belligerence underneath.

"Oh, I don't expect her to be necessary," Coil replied in a matching tone. "And if I do need anything more, Contract, you'll get that demonstration you wanted."

Contract laughed, and like her early laughter at Somer's Rock it held a hint of malice. Intrepid wasn't sure how she could fake such a different personality, but she was very good at it. "Touché, Coil. Touché."

"You're in a good mood," he observed, approaching lazily. His men spread out and followed him. Contract let them come, forcing Coil to meet her on her own ground.

"You didn't tell me she'd be worth her weight in gold," Contract replied, tossing her head back toward the Anti-Heroes. Tattletale was able to interpret the motion, and bent down to unzip the suitcase. Dinah tried to fight as best she could, until Intrepid got a grip and physically lifted her out of the suitcase. Then she stilled, upright, breathing shakily as he kept a harsh grip on her arm. "Dinah Alcott," Contract declared proudly, "as promised."

Dinah's ankles were cuffed together with about a foot of chain between them, her hands were bound behind her, she was blindfolded, and there was duck tape over her mouth. Even knowing what he knew, standing so close to the younger girl while she shook and whimpered was testing his resolve.

Coil took a step forward, and Contract side-stepped, blocking his view and putting her hand out in a classic "stop" gesture. "Not so fast," she protested. "We've upheld our end of the deal. Now it's your turn."

Without any facial expressions, it was hard to judge Coil's emotional response to her challenge. His voice was very businesslike when he answered, "Am I to take your word that she is who you claim? That could be any brown-haired girl."

Contract's mouth, visible beneath her visor, twisted into a grim smile. "Don't pretend you don't know every detail about that girl. I bet you could even tell me her _blood-type_."

Coil didn't advance, but his posture did seem a little stiffer. "I demand a demonstration of _her_ power."

Contract shrugged, her smirk never wavering. "You really do underestimate me. Admit it, it's pointless. Any probability that's verifiable, such as a coin flip, she already knows and would be easy to fake. Any probability we don't know, she can just lie about."

"Nevertheless, I will have a demonstration."

Contract's smirk dropped away, and she was more serious when she answered him. "And I suppose you have some pre-determined question in mind."

"I do," he admitted. She waited, and when he didn't immediately reply, she turned her head and mockingly held one hand up to her ear, waiting. Coil shifted his stance, evidently not amused, but elaborated. "What are the chances that all of my men make it out of here alive?"

Beside him, Dinah cocked her head. Intrepid waited for Contract to give some signal for them to remove the tape gag, but she didn't do so.

Instead, she sighed. "Come on, Coil, this really is becoming insulting. I know that you think we're still playing you. If we were trying to fake Ms. Alcott's power, we'd tell you a high number to keep you happy. But I bet you've already given instructions for someone on your squad to kill someone else, proving us to be liars.

"Except, of course, that maybe the high number _wouldn't_ be a lie. You're not the kind of schemer to forget to account for my reaction. There is no way I'm letting you kill someone while my team and I are technically still in the progress of a kidnapping, giving each and every one of us a murder charge on top of everything else. So I'd be obligated to save your man's life, and neither of us wants to bring our powers to bear against each other. So let's just accept that I am smart, and you are smart, and leave the pissing contests to lesser capes, yes?"

Intrepid assumed Tattletale was the one who had fed Contract that slew of information. It was too twisty for anything else. Coil cocked his head. "You're very paranoid."

"It keeps me alive," Contract said with a shrug, her hands relaxing from her hips back to her pockets again. "I assume you have a follow up question prepared."

Coil nodded to one of his men, who stepped forward and held up a pair of dice.

"Non-standard faces, of course," Coil said. "What are the chances at least one six is showing?"

This time, Contract turned her head back toward Intrepid and nodded. He pulled the tape off of Dinah's face with one quick motion, and hissed, "Answer the question, if you don't want to be hurt."

"67.1344%" Dinah said in a shaky voice.

Coil nodded, apparently satisfied. Intrepid tried to do the math in his head, but Contract beat him to it. "One standard die, and one that's half sixes I presume? With imperfect weighting, of course."

Coil didn't bother to answer her, just gesturing for his man to toss the dice away. No one bothered to check the faces. It wasn't about whether this future happened to be in the majority or minority of futures, it was about proving that Dinah knew odds she couldn't have known without use of her power.

"One more question, and then I will demonstrate as you wish."

Contract sighed, crossed her arms over her chest, but nodded. "One more."

"Chances that I walk out of here, under my own will power, if I demonstrate my power to Contract."

Intrepid could almost feel Contract roll her eyes as Dinah cocked her head and answered, "87.3342%"

Contract immediately advanced on Coil, aggressive. "You're planning to betray us? By at least 13%?"

Coil held his ground, but did raise his hands. His men, who had been raising their weapons, froze and Contract reluctantly came to a stop as well. "Or a misunderstanding such as this one escalates beyond us both," he shot back. Contract cross her arms over her chest, glaring at Coil. She was closer to Coil, now, than to the Anti-Heroes.

"I have no intention of betraying you," he reassured her after a moment. "As I infer from your reaction that you have no intention of betraying me, the 13% must refer to outside forces."

"In that case, perhaps it would be best if we were to speed this up," Contract said.

"Not quite yet," he insisted.

"You've gotten your demonstration of our commitment and her power. You have your odds of success. What more could you _possibly_ want?"

Coil crossed his own arms in front of his chest. "First, you're going to go back to your teammates." He stopped then and waited. Contract waited too, stubbornly mirroring his posture, but after an awkward ten or twelve seconds she huffed, turned her back on Coil, and retreated to the Anti-Heroes. She whirled around and faced Coil again, looking pissed under her mask.

"Second," Coil said just as calmly, "I'd like to ask the question again, now that we've narrowly avoided a significant confrontation."

"Why do I have the feeling there's going to be a third and a fourth demand? You're stalling. Keep it up, and I'll take my people and my prize and go. With her, I probably don't need you anymore."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that, Sophie."

Contract stood up straight as a board, her right hand jerked a gun out of somewhere, and she pointed it steadily at Coil, advancing a step as she hissed, "Excuse me?"

Coil's men raised their guns in response, but he again lifted his hands, and no bullets flew. Contract advanced another step, now shouting. "How dare you? How dare you break the capes' code?"

"Tell me you wouldn't do the same, given cause," he challenged, and Intrepid unconsciously tightened his grip on Vista. Did Coil somehow know that Contract had _already_ done the same? But why would he believe her name was Sophie?

Slowly, so slowly, Contract lowered the weapon just a touch. Coil's men didn't mirror the action, instead staying ready to fire. "What's demand three?"

"No demand three. I just want to check our odds, with that little tidbit out of the way."

Contract didn't take her eyes off Coil as her voice snapped out, demanding, "What are the odds that Coil walks out of here a free man if he demonstrates his power in the next sixty seconds?"

"96.4431%"

In answer, Coil turned to one of his men, the dice man again, who stepped up and handed him something that Intrepid couldn't see. Coil tossed the tiny object to Contract, who caught it. "A quarter?" she asked.

"Which side is showing?" Coil replied.

"Heads," she told him, now inspecting the coin more carefully.

"Toss it back," he told her, and she did. He turned it over in his hands for a moment. "How many heads do you need to see, to be satisfied in my abilities?"

Contract waited, studying him for a moment as she thought, or perhaps as she worked out the odds in her head. "Shall we make it a Baker's dozen? One down, twelve to go?" Coil didn't reply verbally, instead tossing her the coin. She caught it, and said, "Heads," then tossed it back.

He threw it again immediately, and this time she caught it in her right hand, then slapped it on the back of her left, changing which face would be showing when she pulled her hand away. "Heads," she reported, sounding surprised. Without moving a muscle, Coil seemed to radiate smugness. Ten to go, Intrepid thought. When would they get the signal to attack?

"Do you really need ten more?" Coil asked her after he caught the quarter again.

"Humor your future ally," she insisted and he threw it back to her. She looked at it casually, said, "Heads," though there wasn't any doubt, and then sent it back to Coil.

"We could do this all night," he promised, flipping her the coin again and again she reported it was heads before she threw it back.

"It won't take ten minutes. Heads," she said, even though she'd again looked at the "other" side of the coin, seemingly at random.

"I was promised sixty seconds of safety, as I recall," he said in a voice that was almost… teasing. Contract didn't rise to his bait, only answering "heads" once again. Six more tosses.

Coil continued prodding her. "I'd think you'd be more interested in how I discovered your name."

Contract seemed irritated by this, not giving him the coin back right away. Her eyes narrowed, and she flipped the coin for herself. She didn't look at it right away, instead just staring at Coil. "Well?" he finally prompted.

She glanced down. "Heads," she admitted. She tossed the coin to him again, and put both hands in her pockets. He didn't throw the quarter back to her. "How _did_ you know?" she asked.

"It wasn't difficult," he said patronizingly.

"Is that so?"

"It is. You practically told me yourself."

"I bet I did," Contract said. "So where do we go from here? Do you trust me yet?"

"No, but close enough," Coil admitted. "I'm sure Tattletale has told you about the retainer I pay the Undersiders. I will match that to your people as soon as you declare yourselves to be villains."

"Independent heroes," Contract corrected him. "I'm not a complete PR fool."

Even though it wasn't necessarily in character, the comment caught him so off-guard that Intrepid laughed. He could just picture Glenn's reaction to being told that Contract was going to run all of her own PR.

Her head turned toward him slightly, before she re-focused on Coil. "Well, at the very least, I know when to listen to my thinker," she said, seemlessly accepting Intrepid's mirth and turning it into a scripted part of her speech. Tattletale shifted uncomfortably, playing the part of the reluctant recruit.

"Is that-"

Intrepid's visor flashed white.

"-so?" Coil asked as Intrepid dropped his grip on Vista and shot as fast as he could towards Circus. The flash was the signal, and it was his duty to take out the highest rated cape on the scene. Given Coil's forces, that was Circus.

Intrepid whipped out his brand-new tinker weapon, courtesy of Kid Win, and opened fire as he accelerated toward Circus. She was fast, and pulled some sort of shield out of pocket-space but the sonic blast hit it hard enough that she dropped it just as Intrepid was upon her. He went over the shield, shoulder checking her, slamming both of them into the side of one of Coil's SUVs.

She brought the hammer around, as hard as she could but the angle was awkward. She hit him right in the small of the back. Intrepid's legs went weak, but he was holding himself up with his power, not his muscles. He put the gun in her face and pulled the trigger again. This time, the sonic blast did its trick and seemed to leave her disoriented. He twisted the cylinder of his gun, as Kid Win had shown him, bringing to bear the limited supply of containment foam it held. He used his close-up position to shoot foam behind her back, sticking her to the door of the SUV.

Intrepid backed off rapidly, just in time as Circus had recovered enough to trade her hammer for two knives in each hand. He managed to foam her left hand while the right lashed out towards him, releasing both knives. If he hadn't already been rising from the moment he realized the hammer was gone, he'd probably have taken one or both in his dominant arm. He used the last of the foam to catch her other hand.

Circus wasn't out of the game, she could still use her pyrokinesis if she found a source of flame, but she was mostly neutralized and he was probably needed elsewhere.

Intrepid rose up rapidly, taking advantage of the height to protect himself and to get a good look at the battlefield. Beetle was swarming the individual soldiers, while Vista had managed to trap the two who were in hazmat suits. No one's guns seemed to be working, so Beetle had probably managed to jam them before the fight, as planned.

The high windows on Intrepid's three o'clock suddenly crashed in, monstrous beasts landing heavily on the warehouse floor, twenty feet below. Shit, the Undersiders. They'd been hoping Coil would be wary enough of Tattletale that he wouldn't call up the team of teenage villains.

As Grue's darkness started to obscure the floor, Contract's voice rang out.

"FREEZE OR I KILL HIM!"

She was standing behind Coil, who was on his knees. She had a long knife tucked under the side of his neck, lying just under his jaw, the tip by his ear. Her other hand was apparently twisting his arm in some sort of submission hold, because Coil seemed to be almost leaning into the knife.

Bitch shouted a single-syllable command and the dogs stopped. The Undersiders, who were riding the things, didn't drop down, but Grue did continue to exude darkness, which floated down and around.

"We're here for Tattletale," Grue shouted back.

"If you walk out of here, Tattletale, I will find you. I do not take well to betrayal," Contract said in a voice that was calm but also deadly. "Either leave with them, or tell your team to go. Your choice."

"Get out of here," Tattletale shouted to her team. Intrepid used the chance to rotate his gun out of sonic shot position, which it had automatically fallen back to when he ran out of foam, and into hard-light shots. Grue's darkness might or might not stop hard light - Tattletale hadn't been sure - but it would _definitely_ screw with sound.

Grue hesitated, looking at Coil.

"Do not think I haven't killed before," Contract said. "This man can no longer pay you, and he cannot protect you either. Go. If you're smart, you'll turn yourselves in before I come looking for you." She twisted Coil's arm a little further. "Tell them."

But no one was listening anymore.

His men were still fighting against Vista, Beetle, and Beetle's swarm. Vista had armed herself with the containment foam sprayer that had been hiding in the suitcase with her. One thug was down near Beetle, perhaps from a personal blow of some sort. Three were trapped by foam, and two more were tangled together courtesy of a Beetle-laid trap. Intrepid used his hard light shots to snipe two more, knocking them off their feet until the girls could handle them permanently.

As for the Undersiders, Regent was already sliding off from behind Bitch, and Grue and Bitch were each moving the dogs farther apart, making it harder to target them. Regent rushed at Vista, avoiding Intrepid's shots, as Vista focused on Circus, finishing the foaming Intrepid had started to keep her out of the fight.

At the last moment, as Regent lunged forward, Vista stretched the space between them, forcing the villain to fall short. Regent waved a hand and she twitched, just slightly, the distance collapsing back. Ironically, it put Regent right in the line of fire of Vista's sprayer.

Intrepid turned his attention to Grue, who was trying to communicate with Bitch over the noise of battle. Intrepid used a hard light shot to knock him off the enormous dog he was riding. Bitch whistled to her dogs, but at that moment the warehouse doors caved in as PRT vans busted them open. Troups poured out, even as Bitch and her monsters charged them.

Intrepid ignored that, knowing both Vista and Beetle were better equipped to help in that fight. He descended on Grue instead, who was pouring out black smoke everywhere. A second hard light shot connected, but Grue barely reeled so the darkness must be acting as a buffer, even the thinnest portions next to his skin.

Before Intrepid could try a third shot, or switch to sonic, he was in Grue's darkness. Only being prepared by Tattletale let him accelerate instead of slowing down as he tucked his gun back in its holster. He was utterly disoriented, like trying to swim in a river with rapids and silt, except that the rushing was replaced by silence. Even so, Tattletale had warned them that Grue had perfect perception in the cloud so Intrepid had only moments before he'd be at the villain's mercy.

The acceleration did the trick, slamming him into Grue before the other could dodge. He wrapped his arms around Grue in a horrible approximation of a grappling hold, then re-accelerated, not caring which direction they were headed.

Grue was heavy, far heavier than Contract or Vista who he'd practiced carrying around. He was also struggling with more than just desperation, but with some actual intelligence. If Intrepid hadn't been regularly sparing against Gallant, he knew he never would have stood a chance. As it was, he barely got out of the darkness before he lost his grip on Grue.

It was luck, or else Tattletale's own power, that meant he dropped Grue practically at her feet. For a heart-stopping moment, the villains' eyes met and Intrepid thought the two of them were going to unite against him. Then Tattletale leaned down and tazed her former team leader. Grue twitched, but Tattletale's power had let her target an unprotected area between the bike leathers and helmet, so he didn't get up.

Intrepid left her standing over the villain and shot up again, headed towards Bitch and her dogs. Bitch was no longer mounted, but was now standing behind the dogs with her back to the wall, calling out commands. Intrepid hugged the wall as he flew closer, then swooped down and tried to lift Bitch up into the air.

Like Grue, she was too heavy. His momentum let him carry her a few yards, and Vista was paying enough attention that she bent space, so she was ready when he dropped the villain. Vista foamed her, and the two PRT officers on either side of her did likewise.

The dogs went berserk, egged on by Bitch who kept howling obscenities and commands. Vista stretched the space between the dogs and everything else, but it wasn't enough. Intrepid's hard light shots were useless against their bulk, and the sonic only made them madder. They snapped at Beetle's swarms, but refused to be distracted from their targets, and they were getting closer to the PRT forces no matter how fast Vista tried to create new space in the now cavernous warehouse. She likely could have caged them, if she wasn't so busy trying to buy a moment of breathing room.

Intrepid used the expanded space to really build up speed as he aimed for the far wall between the dogs, firing his sonic weapon as he passed them. This, finally, was enough of a distraction. They both turned to snap at him as he raced for the ceiling, dodging as first one and then the other leapt impressively high.

Then it was over. Vista had them caged, with walls that went up to the ceiling. It would hold until they got Bitch out of range, or until she calmed down enough to surrender.

He turned back to Contract and Coil, and didn't like what he saw. There was blood, a lot of it, and that was all Intrepid registered before he was racing over to her.

Contract was sitting heavily, looking at the prostrate Coil, blood dripping from her hairline. Her visor was in pieces; it must have taken one or more impacts, and parts of it were actually buried in the left side of her face, where Beetle's additional face armor had been torn away. The knife in her hand, which she'd held against Coil's throat, was drenched in blood.

"Contract, are you…?" He couldn't finish the question, couldn't stop glancing from the knife to Coil's prone body. Experience kept the tinker gun in Intrepid's hand, partially raised, but it was clear that Coil wouldn't require the threat.

"Ll'be fine," she slurred, over the top of the question. With her visor broken she didn't know that he'd spoken, since she hadn't looked away from Coil's body. She was just reacting to the presence of a teammate.

When Coil moved and groaned, curling in on himself, Intrepid accidentally shot him in startled reflex. Contract looked up then, and Intrepid could see that there was blood on her neck, and drenching her shoulder. "I cut the tendons in his ankles," she said, still sounding drunk. "He's not going anywhere."

Now that Coil was curled on his side, and not prone on the bloody floor, he actually looked like he was in better shape than Contract. There was a very thin slice of blood on his neck, but it had missed the major artery that Contract had been threatening. His arm, the one she'd twisted behind his back, was looking a little floppy, like something had been dislocated. Probably how Coil had escaped. And yes, sure enough, both ankles were bleeding.

Intrepid surveyed the warehouse, reflexively looking for threats, but there were none. They'd won.

"Don't let me sleep, Red. Sleep's bad for head shit," Contract told him, authoritative and slightly less slurred. When he looked back at her, her face was screwed up in concentration.

He dropped down on his haunches, to be on eye-level with her. "I got you," he said, facing her squarely.

Her head tipped to the side. "Everyone's okay?"

Intrepid glanced around again, verifying. The PRT personnel were dealing with Circus and the goons. Grue was submitting to handcuffs courtesy of the PRT captain, or one of them anyway since a second captain was talking to Beetle, likely verifying that they'd accounted for all the known hostiles in the area. Vista was headed his way, with Tattletale and a PRT soldier in tow.

"Everyone's okay," he said, nodding as he turned back to her. He figured there was a good chance she couldn't read his lips very reliably at the moment, and he cursed their reliance on tinkertech and her skills to make up the deficit from her deafness. He needed to learn some basic sign, for emergencies.

"Good. I hate bloody time travelers."

Intrepid cocked his head. "Time travelers?"

Contract didn't get a chance to answer. At that moment, Armsmaster's motorcycle roared into the warehouse, past the bulk of the people in it, and skidded to a stop beside Contract and Coil. She looked up at him with a loopy smile.

"I think I'm going to puke now," she announced, and promptly did, all over Coil's feet.

Head trauma or no head trauma, Intrepid was pretty sure that was on purpose.


	41. Cleanup on Aisle 14

**Chapter Forty-One: Cleanup on Aisle 14**

 **April 10, 2011**

Colin had dealt with a lot in his lifetime, both as a man and as a cape. So when his… when Fi had come to him and told him she'd accidentally discovered Coil's identity, he'd been willing to believe her. The parallels between Thomas Calvert and Coil were compelling, and he had faith in her word that she hadn't gone looking for the information on purpose. She gave him only an abbreviated explanation of how she'd stumbled on the damning evidence, but the exact details weren't relevant at that point.

He'd wonder later about the possibility that her "luck" in finding the information was orchestrated, after they saw how the encounter turned out.

Believing that Coil was a full-fledged time traveler? That was a little harder to buy. There was only one documented time traveler, and a myriad of powers that could mimic the effects. To a certain extent that's what precogs _were_ , really. But once he realized that Fi needed to think of Coil in terms of a time traveler in order to take him seriously, he'd stopped protesting. It wasn't particularly relevant, in any case.

Suddenly, Fi was very much in support of his mandated two days of preparation for the confrontation with Coil. She grasped the idea of pre-establishing a preferential timeline immediately, and immediately described a technique she called informational nodes. The two plans fit together like puzzle pieces. They would prescribe certain pieces of information which would be nearly impossible for Coil to discover independently or verify, and only give that information up under certain predetermined circumstances.

It wouldn't help them capture Coil, like the timeline nodes would, but it would give them insight into how his power worked once the sting was done.

Outlining three days' worth of constantly-escalating circumstances went surprisingly quickly when your partner understood the necessity of planning for the worst even as you were hoping you didn't have to use it. The tactical decisions about what to keep from Clockblocker were also obvious to them both.

Spending the next two days in the shadows of the operation was surprisingly refreshing. As the Protectorate team leader, he'd spent the last several years either in the thick of action or in his lab, preparing mechanical solutions to new problems. He'd become accustomed to leaving tactical planning in the hands of Miss Militia, Dragon, and even the PRT captains he worked with, not because he wasn't good at it but because that was something they _could_ do, whereas tinkering was something only he could do.

Out-maneuvering a thinker of unknown caliber was a challenge he welcomed, though the potential consequences weighed on him.

In the end, the plan had gone off as well as they could have possibly hoped. Armsmaster had sucked in a harsh breath when Coil called Contract "Sophie." Sophie wasn't her real name, and wasn't in any way associated with her. The only way he could have gotten that information is if the lie came from Contract herself.

Sophie must have been from an informational node; though Contract hadn't told Armsmaster about it, it made sense that she would have provided a way for herself to know if Coil had used his power to discover her name. How had Coil uncovered it? Had she confronted him in his own civilian identity? Did he know about the blackmail they had planted? Did he know Jason's identity?

Contract absorbed the information without breaking character. Armsmaster fed Vista the next number, and the unique nature of Dinah's power, filtered through Vista's ability to lie undetected, meant that Coil felt safe enough to demonstrate his probability manipulation. Armsmaster prepped the attack signal for 1:03 AM, while Contract played Coil's game with the quarter, drawing the encounter out while she waited for the flash.

From all appearances, they had managed to maintain the element of surprise, which he hadn't expected after hearing Coil call Contract by a civilian name, true or not.

Contract immediately closed quarters with Coil, the two of them fighting with short-range knives, while Armsmaster ordered the PRT squads that were currently running night drills in the docks to re-direct to the Wards' location.

He climbed on his motorcycle as he watched Contract wrestle Coil into a submission hold, then use him to threaten the suddenly-present Undersiders. The gambit didn't work, and in the melee that followed Armsmaster clearly heard the crunch of Coil dislocating his own shoulder to get away from Contract. Then her display went blank.

Armsmaster did not speed up, as he was already traveling at the fastest speed allowed by the terrain, traffic, and equipment on hand. He did not call for extra backup, as by the time they arrived the situation would be over one way or another. Instead, he waited with as much patience as possible while the Wards back in their base scrambled to find the best camera feed. They'd all been watching Contract's camera view since she was engaged with Coil, and now they were flipping through the PRT helmet and dash cams to find a better angle.

Finally, whoever was running the feed settled on one of the van's dash cameras just as Armsmaster turned down Lord's Street. It gave him a general idea of the layout of the battlefield. Hellhound's monstrosities were nearest the cargo doors; Grue's darkness was dissipating beyond them. A number of men were still struggling with Beetle's swarm near the center of the room. A pair of figures that might be Coil and Contract had just gone down in the far background of the camera shot, and were now struggling on the ground.

Vista got the dogs contained as Armsmaster turned from Lord's Street onto Equine, just blocks away from the warehouse. He roared through the broken doors, taking in the scene with his own eyes, but it was basically the same as the image. The fighting was done, more or less. He braked just as much as he needed to, to end up next to Contract, Coil, and Intrepid who was crouching next to them.

Contract looked up at him, her eyes unfocused and her mask in pieces. "I think I'm going to puke now," she slurred. _Head trauma,_ he diagnosed, _concussion or worse._

Then she made good on her threat, the heaving so violent it threw her to her hands and knees, so that she ended up crouched over the legs of the moaning Coil. Armsmaster used his halberd to discharge an electrical pulse through the villain, knocking him unconscious. Then he held out a hand to Contract. She stared at it a moment, before she understood the offer and let him pull her to her feet. Armsmaster stood up at the same time, dismounting his bike.

A girl who looked like Dinah Alcott and was therefore Vista was approaching with Tattletale and the PRT medic. "Look this way," the man demanded as he stepped into the ring of heroes. Contract was still looking up at Armsmaster dazedly. He pointed her towards the medic, since she couldn't hear his attempts to get her attention, and watched out of the corner of his eye as the man shined a light in her eyes. The rest of his attention he turned to Intrepid.

"Report."

"Bitch...I mean, Hellhound's dogs are trapped by Vista. Grue is tased, Regent and Circus are both foamed. Coil had nine other men with him, all apparently unpowered, and all foamed or trapped by spider silk." Intrepid glanced at Beetle as he said this, and she nodded decisively.

Vista took up the report next. "Grue has been seen by the medic and cuffed. Tattletale has surrendered quietly. She's formally requested sanctuary and a probationary hearing, and of course protective custody."

Armsmaster nodded; he'd expected that request, although he hadn't yet decided if he would recommend her for sanctuary. Protecting the girl while she was in direct danger from Coil was a much easier call than wiping away all her past crimes because Coil might still have people who answered to him.

Still, that would ultimately be for a panel to decide. His decision would have a great deal of weight with the board, but it wasn't a choice he had to make now. All he had to do for tonight was ensure she stayed safe.

"Sergeant Ripply," he called to one of the PRT officers who didn't appear to be doing anything at the moment. The man snapped to attention and stepped up. "Take Tattletale into custody. She is to be considered both a flight risk and at personal risk of attack. Log also her request for sanctuary. Read her the relevant rights and responsibilities."

By the time Tattletale was out of earshot, Contract had decided that she was finished with the medic. "You're kidding me, right?" her voice carried, partially as a function of its pitch and partially because she was speaking louder than necessary. "The bullet tore straight through, it's fine."

"Lieutenant Dale, what is Contract's status?" Armsmaster cut in. The medic answered exasperatedly.

"Obvious head trauma. A concussion at best, but she needs to be watched for possible hematoma or hemorrhage. Two broken ribs,"

"Cracked," Contract corrected a moment later, proving that she was reading his lips as he spoke. Dale didn't pause, only acknowledging the comment with a glance as he continued.

"A number of other bruises to the abdomen, with the associated risk of internal bleeding. Additionally, significant blood loss from her head wound and from a gunshot to the shoulder."

"It nicked my shoulder," she corrected again.

"She needs to go to the hospital as soon as the ambulance arrives," Dale finished.

"It's on its way," Armsmaster said, knowing that the Wards back at base would have put in the call as soon as the hostilities ceased and protocol allowed them to do so. He sent a message to Clockblocker to confirm and got an affirmative answer immediately.

Contract rolled her eyes, which would have been more convincing if Intrepid hadn't immediately had to reach over and grab her good arm to help her keep her balance.

"Why don't you sit down?" the Ward offered as soon as Contract was looking at him. She cocked her head, but was able to figure out what he'd said before he tried to repeat it.

"Sitting down is a really good way to faint when you stand up," she declared woozily. Her tone made Armsmaster nearly certain that it was the head trauma talking. It would be amusing if it wasn't indicative of a very worrying injury.

"Check on Coil," Armsmaster order Dale as he waved over two other officers so that he could give them detailed instructions for how, precisely, to contain the villain.

A message from Clockblocker informed Armsmaster that Dinah Alcott had been safely recovered from her hide-away, which explained Beetle's distraction. At the risk of keeping Dinah within Coil's sphere of influence, he'd told Contract to have Beetle keep her within the range of the girl's bugs so that they could keep an eye on her. Dinah Alcott had wandered up to one of the PRT officers on perimeter duty and was now being escorted to the huddle of heroes.

Armsmaster turned toward Intrepid in the moments before she arrived. "Ride with Contract to the hospital and stay with her until I relieve you."

Then he turned to deal with the matters which no one else could handle, and trusted Intrepid to deal with his ward.

* * *

At Armsmaster's insistence, Coil was transported directly to the PRT holding facility after receiving only field-level medical treatment. He had also ordered Panacea contacted directly, unwilling to risk letting Coil escape in the looser security of a hospital. When he pulled into the loading bay behind the PRT van that had transported the prisoner, he found Piggot and Eidolon waiting instead.

"Armsmaster, you better have a good goddamn reason for waking me up at two in the morning," his director growled.

Armsmaster didn't answer her immediately, keeping a sharp eye on Coil as the two PRT officers who were handcuffed to him pulled his drugged body out of the van.

"Why is he sedated?" she demanded, and without waiting for a reply she continued, "and why did you have personnel running drills in the Graveyard on last minute notice?"

"Coil is a high-level Thinker," Armsmaster reported succinctly. "He has been responsible not only for his own crimes in Brockton Bay, but has also paid and blackmailed others into committing crimes on his behalf. On Tuesday afternoon, a Ward was approached by one of Coil's victims. She had reason to believe that Coil had spies operating in the PRT. I authorized a one-week closed investigation to examine the possibility. You see the results." He gestured to Coil's unconscious form.

A muscle in Piggot's jaw was ticking, but she understood the priorities in such a situation. "Put him under master/stranger protocols," she ordered.

"I strongly recommend we keep him sedated as well," Armsmaster told her. "It is possible, though unlikely, that he is actually a time traveler. More likely and almost as worrying is that he can manipulate probability. Whatever his power is, his spies have operated within the PRT for eight and half years without being detected."

She nodded sharply, and Lieutenant Dale nodded back, accepting the order. "Before you take him," Eidolon said, stepping forward hesitantly with his hand out. Piggot waved him on, and Eidolon touched Coil's costume. Green light washed over them both, presumably healing Coil though he didn't come out of his sedation.

Eidolon paused, his body language hesitant, as his hand hovered just over Coil's arm. "Is there any reason to believe that Coil might have been in contact with Nilbog?"

Piggot stiffened up, her entire demeanor sharpening. She, more than anyone, understood the level of threat implied by the idea that someone might have slipped in and out of the perimeter around Ellisberg. "What do you mean?"

Eidolon shrugged, lowering his hand very slowly. "I have tried to heal some of Nilbog's victims, in the past. They are beyond any of my healing powers, but they all carry similar markers. Markers present in Coil."

"He might be an original survivor?" Armsmaster speculated, judging that this is a guess he might have made even if he didn't already known it was true.

"If he isn't, he's been in contact with and is possibly aiding an S-class threat," Eidolon countered. "We can't take any risks when it comes to Nilbog, particularly because we can't deal with him. He's untouchable."

"What are you suggesting?" Director Piggot asked with deadly calm. Eidolon didn't answer immediately, perhaps intimidated by the force of her presence.

"We need to know if he's an original survivor of Nilbog's wrath. This is an S-class situation," Eidolon said, dancing around the actual result he wanted.

Piggot wasn't the kind to mince words. "Unmaskings are only authorized in S-class situations in the case of reciprocation. This is not an S-class situation, and Coil has not violated the unwritten rules." The scorn she felt for the code among capes was apparent from her tone, but she wouldn't violate it either.

"Ah…" Armsmaster turned in unison with Director Piggot and Eidolon to find Kid Win hovering on the edge of the circle of PRT soldiers waiting for their next orders. He clutched a clipboard, and when he had their attention he approached, holding out the paperwork to Director Piggot.

Kid Win cleared his throat, clearly intimidated by the presence of his superiors, but continued. "Clockblocker asked me to bring this down. It's a copy of the unmasking order. He said… well, I mean, Contract's an S-class cape, and Coil called her…" He glanced at Eidolon and changed what he was going to say, "Coil tried to use her civilian name against her."

"You didn't mention this why?" Director Piggot demanded, looking at Armsmaster.

"Coil did not use Contract's actual civilian name. A close approximation, yes. And he did seem to think it was her secret identity, but he was mistaken."

"The intent was still there," Eidolon interjected, grasping on this justification. "And I agree with Clockblocker's logic: as an S-class cape, Contract's safety is an S-class situation. In combination with the possible weakness of the defenses around Ellisberg, this is certainly grounds for an unmasking order."

Armsmaster watched Piggot's face, as her struggle played across it. She had no fondness for the unwritten rules, and Nilbog was a particularly difficult subject for her to be objective about. On the other hand, her duty required that she uphold the law in its particulars. Finally, she took the clipboard from Kid Win and pulled out her cell phone.

"I will wake up Director Costa-Brown and explain the situation. If she decides to instate S-class protocol, that is her call. Wait here," she commanded as she walked off to give herself a hint of privacy.

"Why are you in Brockton Bay?" Armsmaster asked Eidolon directly, as soon as Director Piggot was out of earshot. Kid Win took a step back so that he was next to the van, but didn't leave entirely. Eidolon certainly saw him, but didn't protest his presence, and Armsmaster decided not to say anything either. His social software indicated that allowing the young hero to listen in would boost his confidence, and Kid Win's new technology had done well in the field, even if he hadn't been able to be there directly.

The other hero shifted, and the social software indicated guilt or embarrassment were the most likely causes. "I have been using a precognitive power to check in on Intrepid from time to time. I saw he might be in danger tonight, and I assumed that the other Wards might be also." Armsmaster inferred that he meant Contract specifically.

"I came immediately," Eidolon continued, "but when I arrived here at headquarters, Director Piggot informed me that you'd woken her for an after-action report. I would like to offer my healing to Contract. You said she was in need of a hospital?"

"I will escort you there after I debrief with my director," Armsmaster decided briskly. Protocol demanded that a closed investigation be opened to the PRT as soon as possible. Coil's spies were probably still in the organization, but with Coil himself and nine of his mercenaries in custody, it was time to unseal the file. And while Armsmaster couldn't physically stop Eidolon, he would do whatever he could to keep him away from Contract, particularly without supervision.

Eidolon picked up on Armsmaster's subtle hostility, if his uncomfortable body language was any judge, but Piggot approached before he could answer.

"The Chief Director agrees with your concerns," she told Eidolon with cool professionalism. She turned to one of the nearby soldiers. "Unmask him."

There was an awkward moment while the PRT employees tried to find a hidden zipper or another way to remove the costume easily, before they resorted to carefully cutting it off him. When Coil's face was revealed, the reactions were immediate. Armsmaster kept his visor pointed toward the villain, but watched Piggot and Eidolon instead of confirming what he already knew.

He saw the moment that Piggot recognized Thomas Calvert, and noted that Eidolon didn't seem surprised by the immediate upheaval and widespread recognition among the PRT squad. Armsmaster wondered if there was such a thing as an Ellisberg marker, or if he'd made it up just to get Coil unmasked for his own unknowable reasons.

"What is the meaning of this?" someone demanded, and Piggot pinned them with a withering stare. The murmurs died away abruptly as she took control of the situation.

"Coil is to be sedated for the next twelve hours, and kept under the strictest master and stranger protocols. Raise headquarters to threat level yellow. Effective immediately, all squads are to work double with non-standard backups. No one goes anywhere alone. All tips, suspicions, and testimonials are to be submitted to Internal Affairs."

Piggot turned back to Armsmaster and Eidolon, who were standing at attention waiting for her to finish the immediate measures. "Did you know?" she asked Armsmaster without hesitation.

"We had our suspicions, and there was circumstantial evidence, but no. We didn't know for sure."

"We?" she pressed.

"Contract uncovered the initial clues and brought them to me. The full details are in my preliminary report, which is waiting in your inbox. We did not inform the entire team."

Piggot's face softened ever so slightly as he mentioned his charge. Concern, according to his software. "I assume from Kid Win's presence that the entire Wards' team was involved in this fiasco?" she asked wryly.

Armsmaster nodded. "It made sense to leave the investigation in their hands. They were isolated from the possibilities of spies, they are under less scrutiny than PRT investigators, they had the resources required, they had the trust of the confidential informant, and they were underestimated by Coil."

"Then I will debrief with whichever Wards are still in the building, and with the others as they return from the field. Go take care of Contract, then report back to me afterward."

Armsmaster had already sent her the file, minus a few unnecessary details such as the fabricated "evidence" of Contract's future betrayal. It would not have held up under close scrutiny regardless, but it was better not to put thoughts into anyone's head.

Piggot walked out of the bay, leading Kid Win by a heavy grip on his shoulder. Armsmaster immediately turned his attention to Eidolon, who was eying him just as attentively.

"You've been watching Contract?" Armsmaster demanded as soon as they were alone.

Eidolon hunched his shoulders a bit, and the social software indicated guilt. "I owe her. I didn't want to intrude, but if she was in danger, like tonight, I wanted to be able to help." The lie detection software, which he'd uploaded to run in conjunction with the social interpretation, didn't flag any of that as false.

Because of the draws on processing power, he could only run one program at full capacity at a time. He'd compromised by thinning out the social program, and recalibrating the lie detection so that it only recognized and flagged straight, complete falsehoods. Together, they generally served him well, but Eidolon had the advantage that he could be using one or more thinker powers to fool the programming.

"What have you seen?" Armsmaster asked, trying to think if there was any way he could politely refuse to let Eidolon see Contract. He wasn't sure what her reaction to Eidolon would be, but it couldn't possibly be good, even if he was there to heal her. Could it?

"Nothing," Eidolon insisted. Armsmaster waited for the LIE flag to appear, but it didn't. "I flick the power on once a day to make sure Intrepid will be safe for the next twenty-four hours, then turn it off. Circumstances in Houston mean that there's been a bit of a gap recently, and when I checked tonight I saw imminent danger. I teleported straight here."

"And you're here to help out of the goodness of your heart?" Armsmaster pressed again. In his experience, people generally didn't go out of their way to be helpful without expecting some sort of reward. He'd never noticed Eidolon acting particularly charitable, above and beyond his duty as a hero.

"As I said, I owe her."

Armsmaster studied the other hero for a while, but there was no way to know if he was lying or not. He also doubted he could really keep Eidolon away from Contract if he was determined. "Follow me," Armsmaster commanded, climbing back on his motorcycle.

* * *

An orderly was waiting for Armsmaster when he pulled up to the hospital's front door, and he was escorted directly to Contract's room. Eidolon followed two steps behind, and Armsmaster didn't tell him not to, not yet anyway. For the hospital to have had someone on look out for him, the situation might be more serious than he'd initially assessed.

When the elevator door opened on the fourth floor, Contract's voice was audible almost immediately.

"Admit it, I'd make a wicked space pirate," she said. Armsmaster headed directly for the sound, noticing that a doctor was hurrying towards him from the other end of the hall. They reached the door to Contract's room at about the same time, as she answered whatever unheard response Intrepid had made.

"No, I'm not wasted. Believe me, I am a _mean_ drunk. I only get silly on pot."

"I'm not sure you should announce that," Intrepid told her, glancing between her, lying on the bed, and the small crowd gathered in the doorway of the private room.

Contract was lying on top of the hospital sheets, dressed in a thin gown and domino mask, which was haphazardly tied on over her head bandage. Intrepid was sitting on the foot of the bed, facing the door. His tinkertech weapon was in his hand, but resting on the bed. It had twitched when Armsmaster first came into sight, but remained lowered when he was recognized.

Armsmaster approved of that level of awareness.

The doctor entered the room once he was sure Intrepid wasn't going to protest, and Armsmaster followed him. Eidolon hovered in the doorway, and Intrepid's grip tightened on the gun, but he didn't raise it. Armsmaster considered asking Eidolon to wait in the hallway, but there was still the outside chance that Contract needed immediate healing, despite her apparent good humor.

"What is her condition?" Armsmaster asked the doctor.

"Significant head trauma and internal bruising are the greatest concerns. She's on IV fluids to help her make up for blood loss, though she's refused all pain medications. She needs to be admitted for observation for the next several days to be sure there is no risk for complications."

"Take your diagnosis a-"

"Contract," Intrepid cut in, putting a hand on her leg which probably did more to quiet her than his actual words, "you've made your opinions known."

"How significant is the head trauma?" Eidolon asked, and if Armsmaster's software hadn't diagnosed his tone as concerned, he would have thrown him out of the room then and there.

"We suspect a subdural hematoma."

"Suspect?" Armsmaster cut in.

"Contract is refusing treatment," Intrepid volunteered.

Armsmaster turned to Contract, but she was looking from one face to another. She'd lost the train of conversation. He waited until her eyes were on him, then asked clearly, "Why are you refusing treatment?" Her forehead scrunched up, so he elaborated, "For the subdural hematoma."

"I'm not refusing treatment, I'm refusing an MRI on account of the metal screws in my body, as I tried to say multiple times."

The doctor cleared his throat, "Ah, I should have been more clear. A CT is used to scan for head trauma. Metal won't cause any issues."

"Or I could just heal her?" Eidolon said, as the doctor picked up the clipboard hanging from the foot of Contract's bed. The doctor paused, his pen still hovering over the board and its pages.

"Is Contract in immediate danger, or can we have a moment to discuss?" Armsmaster asked the doctor. The man glanced uncertainly from hero to hero, then shrugged and put the clipboard back.

"Have one of the nurses page me when you're ready, but don't take too long," he said, and Armsmaster made sure to note that his nametag claimed he was Doctor Hall for future reference.

Then it was just the four of them.

"What's going on?" Contract asked, while her hands moved in sync with the words. Armsmaster's own studies were coming along slowly, hindered by his other obligations, the limited availability of independent study materials, and the rarity of practice time. He was pretty sure she was using ASL not because she expected an answer, but to remind them all that she was deaf.

Eidolon stepped forward far enough to close the door, but didn't approach further. Armsmaster was glad. There was no way for him to physically stop Eidolon from being here, which was part of why he hadn't seriously protested the hero's presence. Even so, Eidolon knew that he wasn't welcome and was treading carefully. For now.

"Why are you here?" Contract asked, looking at Eidolon. With his face fully obscured by his hood, she wouldn't be able to see his answer, but she seemed determined to ask anyway. To the surprise of the entire room, Eidolon answered her both audibly and in sign.

"May I use a thinker power on you, so that we can communicate? This power allows me to be understood by my audience. I have found it an effective translation tool."

Contract's face twisted, and Armsmaster could tell she wasn't happy but couldn't read what she _was_ feeling. His software didn't read it either, so it wasn't as simple as reluctance. "Yes. Answer the question."

"I want to offer to heal you." Contract scoffed, but didn't interrupt Eidolon as he continued. Armsmaster didn't know enough ASL to say whether Eidolon's motions matched his words, but nothing he signed stood out as wrong either. "I saw that Intrepid might be in danger, so I teleported to the Brockton Bay PRT. Armsmaster was minutes away with Coil, so I elected to wait and come with him."

Contract looked at Armsmaster abruptly. "Coil?" she asked, ignoring Eidolon for the moment.

"He was unmasked to protect you, after he tried to use your secret identity against you," Armsmaster told her, deciding not to be any more specific for now. Coil was out of their hands, and she would need to accept that. He signed, _Everything's okay. I know his name,_ not knowing how to say anything more complicated than that. "He is being held in custody, under sedation, and under master/stranger protocols."

She nodded at that. Then she turned back to Eidolon. "Why should I let you screw around with my body? What could possibly make you think I'd trust you?"

Confusion, the social software reported. "You trust me to hold back the Endbringers, but not to heal you?"

"You've got billions of reasons to hold back the Endbringers. And more than a few possible motivations to screw with me."

Eidolon shifted. Earnest, the software read his body posture. Concerned. Honest. "I owe you my life and more. You paid the price to end my greatest mistake. I watch your teammate to protect you, nothing else."

"And yet your thinkers write weekly reports trying to ferret out my deepest secrets. What is the logic there, anyway, now that you know that at least some of my secrets are actually yours, too?" Her tone was acidic, and her hands moved crisply and rapidly as well, reflecting her anger.

Eidolon continued to address her in both languages, and it was clear from his voice and the violence of his motions that he was upset, too. "I swear, I did not know that report was still being written. I told Costa-Brown to shut down the think tank. I will evidently be having words with her again when I leave here."

"I wish I could believe you," Contract shot back as soon as he'd finished speaking.

"I would die rather than betray you after what you've done for me," he replied just as fast. Again, Armsmaster waited for a LIE dialog that didn't come.

Contract's eyebrows raised at that, and as she stiffened in surprise she jostled something, resulting in a hiss of pain.

Intrepid pointed to a large red button by her bed. "Take the stupid pain meds."

"And be more dopy than I currently am? Maybe I can start chatting with the dancing elephants and embodiments of Death instead of just seeing them."

"Are you hallucinating?" Eidolon demanded, with a tone that Armsmaster would have called angry if his software hadn't flagged it as urgent and concerned, again.

"So _not_ the point," Contract insisted.

"Hallucination can indicate a very different severity of head trauma -"

"-I'm not seeing elephants, okay? Jeeze. Keep your pants on."

"Contract," Intrepid said as he touched her leg again. "Let him heal you. If he really wanted you dead, this isn't how he'd do it, right? And what else is he going to do, with two witnesses and a hospital staff to hold him accountable?"

"You would not believe the shit you can get away with by screwing with brain chemistry," she told him.

Intrepid's face constricted and Armsmaster's software flagged surprise and confusion. "I thought you couldn't be mastered?"

Contract shot Intrepid a hot glare, and the software reported that the hero felt immediate regret. He obviously hadn't meant to let that slip, having forgotten that no one else in the room knew that detail.

For his part, Armsmaster suppressed the desire to step forward with interest. This was an aspect of Contract's power he hadn't heard about, but he didn't want to alert Eidolon to the fact that he'd been ignorant.

After a moment, she shook her head. "I have some reason to believe that I am guarded from a complete loss of self. The source isn't totally reliable, and I haven't tested it for obvious reasons. I don't think Eidolon is really the powerhouse I'd like to try to outwit, my first time out of the gate."

Armsmaster sent a memo to himself to investigate whatever she was referring to.

"It doesn't work like that," Eidolon tried to assure her.

"Says the trump with access to a billion different powers," Intrepid said, which wasn't helpful in convincing Contract to accept healing.

Intrepid glanced at Armsmaster, who decided to nod back. He agreed that Contract should accept healing, but he wasn't going to push her while her injuries were not life-threatening. Intrepid seemed to be playing both sides of the issue, helping Contract think through the choice while her logic was potentially impaired.

"Is there any way you'd let me help you?" Eidolon implored. The software gave Armsmaster readings of guilt, desperation, and concern.

"Uh, no. Because if you tried to master me and it _did_ backfire on you? The underlying theory is that I'd lash out, subconsciously, and be willing to kill to defend myself. Most probably on the level of soul annihilation. So either I end up mastered, or you end up dead. I don't want to deal with the paperwork for either scenario."

Armsmaster wondered what sort of circumstances would lead to the development of such a theory, and then wondered how Contract could so surely distinguish between "dead" and "soul annihilated." It wasn't something he'd pursued after the events of March 19th, but perhaps that had been an oversight.

"I think she's made herself clear," Intrepid said.

Eidolon, however, wasn't willing to give up. "What if we made a contract? I swear never to lie to you, ever again, if you'll let me heal you."

"It doesn't work like that," Contract told him, with a sad smile. But something about this plea had reached her where the others hadn't. "I don't suppose you've got some sort of broad-spectrum shaker-type healing that could be applied to the entire hospital rather than just myself?"

Eidolon had displayed such powers exactly once, in the aftermath of one of the earliest Endbringer fights. The lack of its reappearance was one of the primary pieces of evidence to suggest that Eidolon's powers might be weakening, or at least that individual powers could be exhausted.

Eidolon paused, considering, then nodded. "I have been keeping it in reserve, but if that's what you'll accept, then so be it. I need to get permission from the other patients in the hospital." He turned to leave.

Armsmaster exchanged a glance and nod with Intrepid, then followed Eidolon out the door. "Panacea is a regular at this hospital; all patients sign wavers when they are admitted. Any nurse can verify if there are any abstainers currently in residence," he told the other hero. "Why are you willing to use something you've held in reserve for so long?"

Eidolon glanced up and down the corridor, but they were alone. With a Ward in residence, this hallway had been cleared of non-essential personnel. "For one, while the hospital will be a challenge, it won't exhaust me. For another, healing Contract is a matter of extreme personal importance to me, as I've already stated."

 _Holding back_ , flashed across his display. "And?" Armsmaster growled out, tired of the politics.

"Contract just admitted what I have suspected for the last two weeks. Her power is at least partially subconscious. That means her head injury could be compromising her control. Why did I sense danger to Intrepid in the next twenty-four hours, if Coil is already in custody? What could endanger him now?"

Eidolon was speaking quietly, and even so he avoided saying anything that could be used directly against himself or anyone else, but the implication was clear. Those with bleeding in the brain had been known to suffer extreme mood swings and loss of self-control. Armsmaster didn't think that she would lash out at Intrepid regardless, those two were thick as thieves, but the point about subconscious control was worrying.

"Panacea will be on duty in just a few hours," Armsmaster hedged, but Eidolon was already shaking his head.

"She can't touch the brain." Eidolon paused, then muttered, "I'm going to go find a nurse," and left Armsmaster standing in the hall with his thoughts.

Armsmaster had thought of Contract as powerful. He'd considered her stubborn and cunning. He'd observed more than once that she knew things she shouldn't and used that knowledge in unpredictable or inconvenient ways. She'd frustrated him on occasion, when she wasn't being amusing or impressive.

He'd never labeled her dangerous, however. Not since she'd surrendered to Alexandria peacefully in New York City. Even when it was revealed that she had the power to release Behemoth, he'd been more wary than actually concerned. It was hard to be properly cautious of someone who showed so little aggression, who lashed out verbally but never physically, who capitulated to the PRT and his own authority, and who had so often retreated directly to his lab, to seek his help.

That veneer had already been challenged many times over the past four days. She'd shown a hidden viciousness rare in most heroes, a pragmatism that he kept closely regulated in himself. He'd begun to suspect that she was not a normal teenager, even by the standards of parahumans. Contract was deadly, and wasn't afraid of that part of herself, even if she kept it controlled.

Contract had absolutely refused to give Coil the slightest chance to extract himself, even if it meant preparing to endanger herself and go after him at home, alone and technically unauthorized. She'd played the part of an anti-hero without a misstep and without needing much help. She'd threatened to kill Coil, even when she had to know that the chances of the hostage gambit failing, as it had, were much greater than succeeding, and her knife could have been jostled by any of a hundred circumstances. She'd cut the man's nerves and tendons, potentially crippling him for life if Eidolon hadn't healed him.

The key wasn't to wonder which face was true, but to realize that both were possible. The subconscious that could mold itself into either the PRT Ward or the avenging killer was the same subconscious, and it was that subconscious that controlled or at least influenced her deals.

A wave of refreshment and energy swept through his body, and Armsmaster assumed that Eidolon had gotten the permission he needed. At this hour, there would be no visitors to the hospital. Assuming the staff kept a parahuman release on file on the premises, there'd be very few independent permissions to request. Even so, Eidolon had managed to get authorization suspiciously quickly, and hadn't officially received Armsmaster's explicit consent. He'd have to mention something to him, to prevent the future potential for scandal to the PRT.

Armsmaster turned and re-entered the hospital room, closing the door behind him again. The two Wards were as he'd left them, talking at a more reasonable volume. He assumed that Intrepid had told Contract that her previous pitch was carrying.

They both glanced up, but Contract was in the middle of a story and she didn't stop talking as she waved her hello. "...Tylenol is pretty much useless for anything more than a sprain, plus it's killer on the liver, and we didn't have that much of it regardless. But we had to hike right back through the same wild patch on the way out that we passed coming in. So yeah, you try saying no to drugs with a bone sticking two inches out of your leg."

"Medical marijuana?" Intrepid joked back. "That's your story?"

"And I'm sticking to it," she informed him archly. Intrepid shook his head, then glanced between Contract and Armsmaster.

"I'll just go watch the door," he muttered, then left them alone.

Armsmaster stepped forward, then paused awkwardly. He needed to debrief Contract, as the ranking parahuman in the field at the time of the encounter with Coil. He needed to debrief with her as a minor who had been undercover. He needed to inform her which pieces of their plan he had expunged from the records before she debriefed with Piggot.

He needed to be sure that she was alright after her encounter with Eidolon, and the obviously difficult subsequent decision to allow him to use his powers on her. He probably ought to follow up on the revelation about her master-resistance, and ask if she had any guesses about the reasons for her thinker-resistance.

But he was also her legal guardian. Was he expected to show sympathy first? Even if it further delayed what needed to be done? Even when Contract had previously given few if any indications that she wanted sympathy from himself or anyone else? How did one show sympathy to a minor, who was legally his ward, and who had been his partner in a detailed and successful operation against a powerful precognitive opponent?

This was why he'd accepted Hannah's offer to help him co-lead the Protectorate.

Before he'd made up his mind where to begin, Contract reached up and took the domino mask off, scratching at the skin underneath as she spoke. "How much trouble are we in for unmasking Calvert?"

"It was Eidolon who pushed for it. He used your security as an excuse, but Director Piggot is a smart woman, and she asked me on the spot what we knew. I admitted we had suspicions and circumstantial evidence. However, since it was not either of us who raised the issue, there shouldn't be any repercussions."

"Let's hope it's that easy," Contract agreed. There was a brief knock on the door, and she pulled the domino mask back on while Armsmaster opened the door. Beetle was standing in the hall, with a large shoulder bag.

"Piggot sent me to bring you this, and to collect Intrepid for debriefing," she said, holding out the bag. It seemed to contain clothes, presumably for Contract. Three PRT officers were covering the hall, ready to relieve Intrepid from his watch.

"Director Piggot," he corrected Beetle, and she blushed so heavily it was visible between the open mandibles of her mask. He didn't say anything more, retreating into the room. There was no need to re-issue orders which his superior officer had obviously already given.

He handed the bag to Contract, who started rooting through it immediately. She extracted the glasses he'd made for her, and a cell phone to pair them with, then replaced the domino mask once again, this time peeling off the no-longer needed head bandage.

"The doctor should be by soon to double check Eidolon's work, and then we can return to the base for debriefing," he told her.

Contract nodded her understanding, pulling the clothes out of the bag and sorting through what Beetle had brought her. It seemed to be one of the many versions of her costume.

"Is there anything I shouldn't be honest about?" Contract asked him.

"I have omitted the fabricated betrayal evidence. As for lying? No," he said. "We made the correct choices for the situation. It's protocol for an internal investigation to go over every judgment call made in a closed investigation to avoid the appearance of corruption or impropriety. You'll be questioned multiple times. That's not an indication that you're in trouble."

"Thanks for the heads up. What are the chances we _do_ wind up in trouble?"

"The biggest obstacles will come from the Youth Guard. The Wards are not meant to be an investigative team. You technically had the authority to do as you did, especially because I was overseeing all of your work. However, they will be very… concerned that five Wards ended up on the front line while the Protectorate was asleep."

"Youth Guard… Triumph mentioned them but I haven't seen them around anywhere. What are they exactly?"

"They protect the interests of the Wards. Technically, most of you are too young to have even a part-time job, let alone one so risky."

Her face and voice were extremely skeptical. "The Wards have their own _CPS_?" The disdain in her tone made it clear that the comparison was not kind.

Armsmaster recited the justification that had been offered to him every time he tried to resist the meddling of the watchdog organization. "The Youth Guard provide important balance and advocacy within the PRT."

"Did they have anything to do with Sophia getting away with murder?"

"No."

"You mean not directly," she elaborated. Armsmaster didn't refute it. Keeping the Youth Guard out of the Wards' base probably had contributed to Renick and Piggot's reluctance to crack down on the girl more than they had.

Armsmaster decided to change the topic. "You handled Eidolon very well."

"You mean I successfully refrained from wringing his neck? Well, the three broken ribs and their associated pain helped dissuade me."

 _Joke_ , his software told him. He'd calibrated it to warn him if it detected jokes mentioning physical harm, as these were sometimes the most difficult for him to figure out on his own. "If I had been more certain of a method of stopping him from coming, I would have," Armsmaster assured her.

Contract shrugged. "According to PHO, he's been spending almost forty hours a week as a healer of one form or another, on top of his normal crime-fighting duties. It's not totally out of character for him to be here."

"You were still extremely cautious," Armsmaster pointed out. He approved of her caution, but was curious about the apparent contradiction.

Contract shrugged again. "Mostly I didn't want him to end up dead. Not that it was likely, I mean even if he did try to chemically program me the chance that I'd register it _and_ the chance that I'd react that way _and_ the chance that my source was being truthful multiplies out to like, 1 or 2%, but it would still be awkward to try to explain to Piggot."

"Director Piggot," Armsmaster corrected her, and made a note to mention the disrespectful habit to Clockblocker, who was its most likely source.

"That's what I said," she said with a teasing smile. Then it dropped away. "Sorry, I just forgot. Anything else you wanted to talk about before the doctor arrives?"

"How did Coil find the name Sophie?" Armsmaster asked. For the sake of operational security, there were certain details that had only been known by one individual. He had been the only one who knew what the attack deadlines were. He'd left others details in Contract's hands.

"I can't say for absolute certainty. I was pre-resolved to only give up that name if I had to confront him in his own home, so the most likely scenario is that he ignored us, I confronted him in his home and implied that I only learned his name after he stood us up, and he promptly went back in time to protect his name.

"It's also technically possible that I was captured and tortured and chose to give up the name despite my resolve, although I somewhat doubt Coil's ability to break me in just a few days given what I have endured in the past. A third possibility is that Coil somehow plucked the information from my mind at the time of the encounter in the warehouse. I was half-expecting to hear it. Everything had just been too easy up to that point."

Armsmaster considered that time travel would partially explain why Coil had known to call in sick to work before their plans had been in motion. "You're _certain_ that he's a time traveler?"

Contract lifted both hands and made weighing motions with them. "He's a time traveler; he's a scary precog. He manipulates time, he manipulates probabilities." She dropped her hands. "At some point, you give up on the details and just classify him as sufficiently dangerous."

"We're going to have to interrogate him at some point," he mused, trying to think it through.

"After he's been sedated for days, right, so that if he _can_ go back in time and does so, he doesn't just walk out of the unlocked room?" she interjected. When Armsmaster gave her an irritated glance meant to convey that he was not an idiot, she nodded her head and moved on. "Well, we do know some limitations. For one, if he was all-powerful he wouldn't need a precog like Dinah."

"Does this have to do with why you asked him for thirteen coin flips instead of four, as I suggested?"

She grinned. "I kept my camera pointed up so that I was the only one who would see the quarter and know the results. Operational security. Because the results weren't what I said they were." Armsmaster waved her on, before she could get caught up in her own gloating.

"I planned my twelve answers as soon as I understood what he was going to try to do. First one, I'd answer honest. Second, I'd look at the other side but still answer honestly. Third toss, I'd lie. Fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh I would answer heads either way, with at least one more looking at the other side for showmanship sake. The eighth toss I was going to be honest again. The ninth I'd say tails no matter what I saw. I figured he wouldn't want to do the last three after that, so I'd flip them myself and report the truth, whatever it was.

"We didn't make it to the eighth toss, as it so happened, but we still learned quite a bit. He didn't know what the quarter was going to say. I got a head, a head, a tails which I had pre-resolved to lie about, and then the four that I said I'd call heads regardless? Two heads and two tails, just like you'd expect."

"So he knew what you told him, but nothing else."

"And he manipulated the first three flips, so chances are his power _would_ have let him manipulate all thirteen if I hadn't screwed with him. Statistically, if he is going back in time, he had to be prepared to do it thirteen times or more, plus whatever else he was using it on besides our little show."

"Maybe he's just able to foresee his own future with extreme accuracy."

"At an accelerated or compressed rate? Because he called into work sick at 5 am, and I didn't confront him in his house until after 8, if I was able to follow my predetermined timeline. At the very least, we didn't text him until after twelve so that's seven hours of foreshadowing."

"A sufficiently dangerous opponent," Armsmaster conceded. A second knock, firmer than Beetle's had been, alerted them that the doctor had arrived.

"Come in," Contract called, not bothering to cover her face. Armsmaster frowned, and sent himself a memo to discuss her secret identity with her when an appropriate opportunity presented itself. The whole situation had started because Tattletale had recognized her. He pointed to her domino mask, and she slipped it on grudgingly as the doctor entered.

"Ah, my apologies, I could have waited," he stammered, noticing that she was still tying the strings.

"No, I'm fine. Come run your tests."

The examination was perfunctory. Based on the delay before he'd come, the doctor had probably already examined several other recipients of Eidolon's healing and trusted the hero's work. After many repetitions of "Does this hurt?" and "No." the man shined a light in her eyes, and asked her to pass a few basic coordination tests.

When he was done, she grabbed the bag Beetle had brought and retreated to the room's toilet to change in privacy.

Doctor Hall didn't leave immediately, as Armsmaster had assumed he would. "I don't consider it my place to say anything, normally. But might I recommend outfitting her with a full helmet?"

Armsmaster swallowed his frustration with yet another person who considered themselves an exception to a rule they had just acknowledged, and forced himself to wait, knowing the doctor would either chicken out and leave or explain himself in the silence.

Doctor Hall chose the second response. "It's just… Intrepid said she's had at least two other serious head injuries in the past. Repeated trauma, even healed by a parahuman, can have lasting effects."

Doctor Hall now had Armsmaster's full and undivided attention. He'd worry later about the fact that Intrepid knew more of Contract's medical history than he did. "Is there anything specific we should look for?"

"Prevention is really the key. But if she's dizzy, or unusually moody, has any loss of vision or hearing, any nausea, or if she seems to go into shock, you need to bring her back here immediately."

"Should she wait for a medical scan?" he asked. Piggot wouldn't like the delay, but Armsmaster was not going to put Contract in danger over a test that would take only a few minutes, particularly with no one else waiting for the machine.

"I would prefer her to, yes. If she can be persuaded."

Armsmaster wondered just how belligerent Contract had been before he arrived, because Doctor Hall seemed almost wary of asking her. Before he could follow up further, the heroine in question emerged dressed in her normal uniform.

"You need to have an CT before we go," Armsmaster informed her, speaking deliberately so that it would be easier for her to read his lips, since her glasses had been replaced by the domino mask.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she shrugged as though it wasn't a big deal. Armsmaster decided to count that as a win. He sent two soldiers with her to radiology, assuming that Piggot had asked the detail to track his movements as well as Contract's, for accountability purposes. He and his trailing escort made their way to the administration window.

"I need a copy of your normal admittance forms, as well as whatever you use to track medical history," Armsmaster told the woman behind the desk. She gave him a look he couldn't interpret, but gave him what he asked for. He turned away, just as his software prompted him to thank her.

Even he knew it would be awkward to turn back and do so now, so he strode away instead. He did remember to thank Doctor Hall, when the man escorted them out of the building.

Armsmaster followed the PRT van back to the headquarters building, writing and rewriting his list of things to do, once he was cleared to do them. It had already been a long week, and a long night. Now he had several long days of interrogation to look forward to.

At least Coil was in custody.

* * *

Coil remained in the custody of the Brockton Bay PRT for almost precisely twelve hours, before he was transferred to New York to await court martial or trial. Director Piggot had decided almost immediately that Coil needed to be tried as Coil so that he could be sentenced to the Birdcage.

However, since trials were open to the public, and there was a chance that Coil's identity could come out in the process, there was some pushback from higher up the chain of command, namely Chief Director Costa-Brown and the other regional PRT directors who had employed Coil's men after they proved their worth in the Brockton Bay squads.

Armsmaster learned all of this second hand, through Miss Militia, whenever she stopped by to update him. He was confined to isolation until the initial investigation had been completed, and he spent most of the time drafting designs (by hand, since as a tinker he was not allowed access to anything electronic during an enforced period of isolation) and making lists and plans for when he was cleared. The two of them were able to iron out the details of their co-leadership, formalizing habits that they'd fallen into in the last two weeks, and ones they'd developed in the years before that.

The investigation itself was more straightforward than he'd hoped, with the exception of the contingency plans and preparations that he and Contract had laid out, in case of escalation. They were given some leeway for having not carried them out, but no one he talked to seem to really understand. The plans had escalated based on the recognition that they would be unnecessary unless Coil himself had escalated _first_. Faking the death of the Protectorate leader, having Brockton Bay declared to be in a state of emergency, and luring in the Triumvirate had not proven to be necessary, but that didn't mean that they could have guaranteed from the beginning that it wouldn't _become_ necessary.

Because he and Contract were both under scrutiny, they were confined to their respective PRT quarters rather than being allowed to go home at the end of the very, very long Sunday.

Fortunately, on Monday, Director Costa-Brown herself got involved and the questions began to die down. They were both released from custody, though the official clearance for full duties might take two weeks or longer to be processed. Unfortunately, Director Costa-Brown also declared that Coil would be tried in a closed court martial as civilian Thomas Calvert.

Contract cynically commented that he would be free within the week. Armsmaster was slightly more optimistic, but only in regards to the timescale, not the ultimate result. It was a shock to them both when he was found dead in his cell, apparently a suicide, the first day he was allowed out of sedation. How he'd managed to kill himself while under master/stranger guard was someone else's problem.

* * *

 **April 13, 2011**

"Did you sleep well?" Colin asked as Fi emerged from the den of his apartment, which they were still converting into her full-time bedroom.

"As well as ever," she deflected.

"Which means?" he pressed. He had little patience for the extended back and forth when Fi clearly knew what he was asking.

"I'm glad it's Wednesday? Finally?" she opened the fridge and started pulling out ingredients. "I'll take a nap after therapy," she conceded. Colin stayed quiet, leaving the silence as invitation.

While he waited, he returned his attention to the report he was reading. Miss Militia had arranged for those Wards cleared for duty to join various Protectorate teams on patrols for the rest of the week. It was good to show the colors after the press release scheduled for later this morning, when they'd be officially announcing Coil's capture, with a very small note about his eventual fate.

"Do you ever dream of your trigger event?" Fi asked. Colin looked up, but she was focused on whatever she was chopping. Potatoes, most likely. She seemed to enjoy a large breakfast. She was wearing her glasses, so Colin answered her while she was still looking down.

"Very rarely. Perhaps once a year, or less." He considered adding some detail about the event itself, but couldn't think of anything he was comfortable sharing.

"I've been dreaming of it a lot," she volunteered.

"What does Dr. Yamada say about that?"

"I haven't told her yet."

Colin knew he ought to chide her for that, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. He could count the number of people he'd confided his trigger in on one hand with fingers to spare, and all of them had been capes.

The silence stretched, then Fi started talking again. Listening seemed to be enough, so Colin set aside his report and just listened as she stumbled through what she wanted to say, never looking away from her task.

"After Behemoth, I dreamed of it every night. Not a direct part of the cost, but... a consequence. Like having to leave home. They haven't stopped."

Fi had come to him, for help in drafting an email to Eidolon regarding Behemoth. He'd been hoping that with that contract over, she might be willing to speak of it, but so far she hadn't done so. Now wasn't the time to push her on it.

"I feel like there's something I'm supposed to be seeing, some detail I'm not noticing. I just wondered if all capes felt that way, maybe."

"I don't know," he admitted. "Miss Militia asked me the same thing once, but when I told her I rarely re-lived my trigger, she didn't elaborate. You might talk to her."

Fi shook her head. "She's your partner, but I don't really know her that well."

She dumped whatever she'd been cutting into a pan, and breakfast aromas started drifting through the apartment.

"You allergic to onions?" she asked, taking one to the sink to wash.

"No, though I don't prefer them." From the smell, Fi was making breakfast potatoes and eggs.

The first few days in the apartment, he'd tried to cook for them. It felt like something he should do. On the third day, Fi had taken the spatula out of his hand and informed him that he was officially banished from the kitchen. After a bit of confusion and hurt feelings on both sides they'd finally managed to communicate.

Fi liked cooking, it relaxed her, and she didn't want Colin to feel obligated to do something he saw as a tedious chore. She didn't dislike his cooking, though they both agreed it was bland, nor was she ungrateful for the effort. She just didn't see why she shouldn't do something she enjoyed that they both benefitted from.

Colin picked up the pad again, but closed the report and opened the scans he'd made of the hospital's paperwork. "That reminds me," he said as casually as he could, "as your legal guardian, I need to be able to provide your medical history."

The rhythm of her chopping didn't change. "Alright, ask away," she said after a long moment. Colin tapped the record command into his phone, so he wouldn't have to try to fill in the information as she talked.

"Any allergies?"

"Not that I'm aware of. A little bit of painkiller tends to go a long way, so I avoid it when I can, but as far as I know, I'm not allergic to any foods or medications."

"You mentioned marijuana in the hospital. Have you taken any other drugs?" he kept his tone level, not condemning. Whatever she had done was in the past, it was in the past. If he judged her, he was less likely to receive honest and helpful answers.

Fi paused again, but it was just so she could stir the potatoes frying in the skillet. "I have been drunk precisely twice, and used marijuana for less than one day as a medically necessary painkiller. I have never taken any other recreational drugs. I've had a variety of pain meds prescribed to me, which I tended not to take as I previously mentioned."

Colin glanced back down at the forms. "Any previous surgeries?"

"A couple. I've had my tonsils and appendix removed. One broken bone that required screws to set properly. Right leg."

"Any other physical traumas?"

"Fractured bones, sprains, bruised ribs." She seemed focused on her task, her tone totally casual.

"Intrepid told the hospital you'd had two previous head traumas."

She stopped, set the knife down and turned to look at him. "Head traumas? Jason and I haven't discussed my medical history… oh. Yes. I have had previous head traumas."

The confusion dealt with, she reached for the knife again, but then paused, and visibly forced herself to face Colin, meeting his eyes. "I suffered a concussion the same day as my trigger event. I tend to forget about it, because it pales in comparison to everything else that happened that day. The other is probably referring to when I was kidnapped and tortured, two years earlier. I had access to a pretty good healer a about a month after I escaped from that situation, so I wasn't accounting for any of the physical traumas I suffered during that time or before. Should I list them anyway?"

Part of Colin wanted to say yes, to know what she had endured. But he could see that the thought of recounting it to him was not an easy one, so he shook his head. "Doctor Hall mentioned that even healed head traumas could cause long-term issues, so you might want to see a specialist. But for now, I think it's safe to assume that's in the past, especially since his tests didn't show any warning signs."

She nodded sharply, and took a deep breath. His willingness not to push had not eased her tension as much as he hoped. "There are two other medical facts you need to know, both related to my trigger event."

He nodded, inviting her to sit with a wave of his hand, but she didn't move from her spot by the stove.

"I was raped, and as far as I can tell, I haven't aged a day since I triggered, six years ago." As soon as the declarations were made, she turned back to the potatoes, flipping and stirring them with quick, easy motions.

Colin just watched her, trying to decide what he was supposed to do with a proclamation like that. Fi was… twenty-two? Or had she aged as part of her triggering process, and was now catching up with her physical appearance? Had she been raped as a child or a teen? Did it matter? Had she known her attacker?

The silence lingered, for once not easy, as most silences between them were. Colin tried to think of something he could say, _anything_ really, but he was too afraid of saying the wrong thing. Eventually, Fi took up the slack.

"I don't know how old I am. I was found sixteen years ago, more or less. I was suffering complete retrograde amnesia. I could speak, read, write, do basic math. I knew scientific and historical facts that were unusual for my apparent age, but not enormously so. I had no idea who I was and no memory except for two or three days of wandering by the road. They estimated my age to be about eight mentally, and five physically. They compromised at six.

"I was kidnapped eight years later, and I triggered two years after that. I stopped aging. And for the past six years I've been treated as a totally independent adult. It's equally valid to say that I am fifteen, or sixteen, or eighteen, or twenty-two, or twenty-four. I hardly know, myself."

"I'm sorry," Colin finally choked out. He wasn't sure what else to say.

"I don't dwell on it. Just seemed like… well, you might need to know."

"Alright." Fi reached up and took two plates out of one of the cupboards. She didn't seem to notice his inadequate response. Situations like these were why he'd insisted she have a therapist. He just knew he was screwing this up.

"As far as medical stuff goes," Fi said as she carried the plates over to the table, "I can't think of anything else the doctors would need to know in an emergency. I'm not sexually active, so no need for birth control and the associated potential complications." Colin felt vaguely like that comment ought to be awkward, but Fi carried on blithely. "I used to give blood whenever I could, which isn't often when you weigh a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet. Since I lost two inches, I weigh closer to ninety or a hundred pounds, but I've been meaning to research the blood banks around here anyway."

"The weight limit is a hundred and fifteen pounds," Colin volunteered. Vista complained every time the PRT ran a blood drive.

"Figures," Fi muttered around a mouthful of egg and potatoes. "What else do doctors want to know?"

"There's a whole list of vaccines," Colin told her as he manipulated through the forms with his left hand, eating with his right. The heavy, awkward moments were behind them and he wanted to keep it that way. "Family history, which you won't have, exposure to exotic places and animals, sexual history, religious preferences or considerations," Colin paused as his brain caught up with what his mouth was saying as he skimmed along.

Fi just shrugged, however. "I went to a couple public schools, so I'm recent on childhood vaccines up until age ten. I don't even know if people get vaccines after that, but I do keep recent on my tetanus shots. I guess we could probably find someone who could test my blood to make sure I'm not missing anything. Doctors can tell everything from your blood.

"I've never been outside the US, but I have had my fair share of encounters with the animal kingdom. As far as sexual history goes, it's just the rape. By the time I recovered from the trauma, I realized that my age was getting weirder, and life was busy. I'm a Christian - Baptist, specifically. Is that all? Hospital clipboards usually look weighed down with a ton of papers."

Colin promptly decided that if the sixteen-slash-twenty-four year old girl wasn't going to make a big deal out of the questionnaire, he wasn't going to either. "Well, not having any family history cuts out a great deal of the bulk. And since I assume you'd mention anything like cancer or kidney stones, the rest seems pretty obvious."

"I'll let you know if I remember anything else, but I think that's all." Fi dug into her breakfast, eating a portion at least as large as his at the same efficient rate which he used and which Miss Militia had once described as "intimidating." If Contract was true to form, she'd be eating an equal portion again in a couple hours.

When their plates were scraped clean, Colin collected them and carried them to the kitchen sink. Fi reached over and picked up his pad, examining the forms. She flipped through them, then asked, "Promise me something?"

"What is it?"

"If the worst happens, I want to be cremated. Total burn. Every hair, every drop of blood." She hadn't looked up from the papers. Colin had read the forms as he scanned them, he knew they did not ask for final wishes.

"Alright."

"Thanks." She set the pad back by his empty chair and stood up. "I should do some of my school work."

He nodded, running water over the dishes before he set them in the dishwasher. Fi brought her laptop out to the table, and they worked in comfortable silence until Fi wandered back into the kitchen to make her mid-morning meal.

"Want a sandwich?" she offered even though she knew he wouldn't be hungry. Dragon said making offers you knew would be turned down was a way of being polite.

Colin cleared his throat. "No, thank you."

"When do you think the gag order will be lifted?"

Colin set aside his work. Fi liked to talk when her hands were busy, and from her tone this would be an important discussion. "Coil's identity will probably always be classified."

"No, I meant, when can I discuss the case with Jason?"

Colin took a moment to remember that Intrepid's civilian name was Jason. "We should be released to duty in a week or two. Is there something in particular that's bothering you?"

"I owe him a hell of an apology," she said as she sliced fruit for a salad. Colin waited, and she filled the silence with barely a glance in his direction. "He was really angry that we were willing to use Coil's identity. I don't think he approved of the nodes either, but… I need to repair that bridge."

"I don't understand. I thought Jason volunteered to take your place?"

"He did. Tactically speaking, it was the right choice and he knew he wasn't in a position to argue with the contingency plan. But he was pissed that we were, that I was, willing to stoop to that sort of thing if it became necessary. I think…" she hesitated, her hands stilling as she considered her words.

"He reminds me of an old-fashioned gentleman in some ways. He believes in honor, and in fighting honorably. In New York, when the Protectorate arrayed themselves against the possible need to restrain me, it hit him hard. He still carries that with him. He thought I was above breaking the code, I guess.

"I not only discarded the unwritten rules, I was prepared to plant the blame on Coil. On top of that, I drug Jason into the whole situation feet first when there wasn't a good exit if he wanted it, which he clearly did. And without knowing Coil's identity, Jason didn't know that he really had crossed the line first."

"Coil asked you to kidnap Dinah out of her home," Colin protested, trying to understand. He'd completely missed this dynamic, despite the close attention he tried to give the operation. "And you and Jason seemed perfectly fine afterward. You were joking in the hospital."

She shook her head sadly as she continued her preparations. "No. I mean, we were, but we weren't. It was forced, and we both knew it. Even affected by the concussion, I knew things weren't okay between us. I was too cowardly to bring it up, though, and Jason was too… too nice, I guess. I don't want this to fester any longer than it has to. As soon as the gag order is lifted, I'm going to go explain and apologize."

Colin still didn't understand why Jason was so upset, but he put it aside as an unnecessary detail. "I'll let you know when I know anything," he told her. Fi flashed him a smile.

She worked in silence, scraping the last of breakfast's eggs into an egg patty for her sandwich. After about minute of silence she said, "I don't know how to be someone's kid." Colin looked up in surprise, and their eyes met. "But we did make a pretty badass hero team."

Colin nodded in agreement, then turned back to the reports and other paperwork that needed his attention. With that one sentence, she'd told he what he really wanted to know. Though she would apologize to Jason, she didn't regret what they'd done. Fi brought her sandwich back to the table and ate as she continued her school work.


	42. Debrief

**Chapter Forty-Two: Debrief**

 **April 15, 2011**

Jason waited for the city bus after sixth period, glad that the week was finally finished. With all the craziness over the weekend, the last two weeks had blurred together into one long, twelve day stretch. That didn't even touch how weird it was to go back to school after they'd stopped Coil. On Saturday night, Jason was playing an undercover role as a potential vigilante, and trying to mentally prepare himself in case they had to go to "node four."

On Sunday morning (and afternoon and evening), he had been debriefed over and over again. He'd only been released when his mom showed up and threatened to call the Youth Guard, unless the PRT was holding him on suspicion. They weren't, and he was let go with a warning not to discuss the events until the investigation was complete.

From the tone of the interrogations, the general PRT was just as unsettled by the extreme measures Fi and Armsmaster had come up with as Jason himself had been. Of course, Jason couldn't tell them much about those plans beyond the broad strokes, which seemed to worry the officers even more. Jason was completely honest, but it was still exhausting to have to repeat himself over and over.

At school on Monday, Taylor had told him she went through an equally detailed debriefing. Though she hadn't known anything about the bigger picture of the backup plans, Fi had tasked her with making a number of supply drops around the city, since Taylor could ensure that no one was watching her by using her bugs. She didn't tell Jason exactly what Fi had asked her to hide, but she seemed a bit shaken. Jason didn't tell her everything either, but he did say that Fi and Armsmaster had had a few backup plans, just in case things had gone badly.

The rest of the week dragged by. The Wards were officially off duty until further notice, except for a few patrols with the Protectorate. The hours of the whole team had been weird since the Endbringers were killed, and no one had made a big deal out of it, but his mom's threat of the Youth Guard seemed to have made Renick nervous. Or perhaps Renick simply didn't want to tempt the Wards to talk to each other about events that were still technically under review.

School was still easy, more or less, which meant that Jason ended up with a lot of time to think. He tried not to dwell on the events of the weekend, but it wasn't easy. He kept turning everything over and over in his head, working himself into a terrible fury, and then having to stop and breathe.

He didn't have all the relevant information, he _knew_ that, and yet he felt he knew enough. What had previously seemed like isolated incidents had solidified into a solid pattern of behavior for Fi, and he didn't like the picture that was painted.

Fi wasn't the hero he'd thought she was. She completely disregarded the unwritten rules, ignoring the mutual protection it offered to all capes. Months ago, when she'd revealed herself to Taylor and potentially put him in jeopardy as well, he'd assumed it was a one-time mistake, sparked by her belief that she had no other choice and no trusted allies. The events of the previous week had proven that incorrect.

Fi's resistance to cape branding and instance on going out in public half-dressed had gotten her and Taylor recognized and put them both at risk. Fi hadn't apologize for that, as far as he knew, and he didn't think she would. Her willingness to violate the rules and go after Coil in his own home was chilling, and made worse by the plan to pin the blame on Coil.

Jason had capitulated to that plan for the sake of catching Coil and saving Tattletale's life, thereby protecting Taylor's identity and possibly his own, but it didn't sit well with him. The rules only worked if everyone abided by them, but Fi apparently hadn't thought twice about throwing all of that away.

Worse, Fi hadn't asked for his opinion. While it was good that she had worked with Armsmaster, she'd completely shut him out. She'd issued imperial orders all weekend, treating him and Taylor and Tattletale like they were her underlings and not people capable of their own thoughts. He'd been playing the role of a loyal dog, but Fi's condensention, casual disrespect, and dominance plays had been consistent whether they were in contact with Coil or not.

It was a stark change from the easy friendship and partnership that had been growing, and yet she showed no discomfort with the roles. Which was the false face? Did Fi really think he was willing to be blindly loyal to her, no matter what she decided she wanted? Was she naturally controlling and superior, and had been suppressing that instinct up until then? How well did any of them really know her?

A week ago, Jason would have been quite willing to follow Fi over the Protectorate. He'd already chosen her over the Triumvirate, without regret. And yet now the idea of even continuing on the same team sat uneasily with him. Things that he'd accepted about Fi were harder to swallow in the face of his doubts.

As much as he tried not to think of it, not to get wrapped up in his thoughts, he kept returning to the moment he'd seen Coil lying in his own blood. He'd been sure that she'd killed him, as she had killed the men who raped her. The twisting in his gut in that moment kept haunting his thoughts.

And the worst part was that it would be a least another week before he could talk to her about any of it. He knew he needed to - he needed to get all this out in the open before it became even more tangled in his own thoughts. Stewing in the hurt and confusion would only make any future reconciliation more impossible, if it wasn't already.

There was nothing he could do, now. Either Fi was the girl he'd thought she was, his friend and partner, or she wasn't. She was the anti-hero or the Ward, and there was no way to tell the difference now. Not until the gag order was lifted and they could talk.

Then he'd just have to hope she didn't play him as she'd played Coil.

Jason shoved the thought away and climbed resolutely onto the bus, scanning his school ID to pay the fare. He pushed his way past the crowded front seats, toward the less-filled back of the bus. The driver pulled away while he was still walking, and Jason leaned out and caught a pole before he fell, his backpack swinging slightly with the change in momentum.

"Sorry," he mumbled to the girl he'd nearly fallen on.

"It's okay. You going to sit?" She gestured to the empty seat beside her, and that's when Jason realized he was looking at Fi.

Numbly he glanced up and down the bus, but no one was paying them any attention. He sat heavily, then muttered, "I didn't expect to see you today."

"Gag order was lifted an hour ago. I felt I owed you explanations, first thing."

That warmed Jason a little - it was a good sign. On the other hand, now that the moment had come, he didn't feel ready for the confrontation. "I can't come into the base today. I've got stuff I need to do for my mom."

"We can go to your place and I'll help. Please, Jason, I want to make this right."

Jason didn't answer her immediately.

"Please. At least hear me out."

Jason reached up and pulled the cord to signal for his stop. "You promise to answer my questions?"

"Yes."

Jason nodded, but didn't speak again. They both got off when the bus stopped and walked to his house in silence. Jason used his key to unlock the door, then dead bolted it behind them again and led Fi up to his room.

As soon as he set down his backpack, Fi was talking. "I'm sorry, Jason."

"No, you're not," he countered. "You're sorry I got mad." A moment later, Jason wondered if she was actually apologizing about preparing to unmask Coil; if she even knew why he was upset.

She shook her head. "I'm sorry I put your family at risk," she insisted. Jason tried not to be satisfied that they had understood each other. There was a long, difficult conversation in front of them. Avoiding miscommunication would help, but it still wouldn't be easy.

"If that were true, you wouldn't keep doing it. It's not like this was a one-time thing, Fi. You told Taylor who you were as a test, and in doing so you risked exposing me as well. And when you introduced us, you didn't even give me warning that we walking into a situation where your identity was compromised. Clock told you that was dangerous, and you said then that you'd try to do better, but you didn't!

"It's not just about Coil and this weekend, it's about the fact you've been playing loose with your identity and ours from the beginning."

Fi didn't answer him right away, which Jason took for assent. Now that he'd started talking, he found he couldn't stop. "It's like you _enjoy_ flaunting the rules. You barely wear a cape, you won't let yourself be marketed, you waltz around town in full dress except your mask, daring people to recognize you, and guess what, Lisa did! You put us all at risk!"

She opened her mouth to answer, but Jason wasn't ready to listen yet. His thoughts had been turning this over and over for too long, and he wanted to get it all out. "What is it? Do you think you're too good to be a cape? What's so important that it was worth putting Taylor in harm's way?"

Fi was looking down now, not meeting his eyes. He saw her swallow heavily. "I'm sorry." She sounded sincere, but she'd also sounded sincere when she told Coil she didn't have a problem kidnapping a little girl. "I didn't understand the gravity of the situation. Either situation. It didn't occur to me, that Taylor might have guessed your identity based off of mine. I wouldn't have risked your family like that, if I'd realized.

"As for the Boardwalk, I went down there regularly before the Simurgh. I never would have gone out with Taylor if I thought it would put her in danger. I wasn't looking for trouble; I just wanted to take her out and get her some new clothes to help with her confidence."

"And Coil?" Jason demanded. He wanted to believe Fi, but there was just so much to answer for, and she'd proven to be an accomplished liar. She'd had six days to prepare for this conversation. Could he still trust her?

"It was an accident. I swear to you, Jason, I didn't go looking for him. I was trying to find the PRT spies, and I stumbled across… I didn't even believe it, at first."

"How do you go looking for spies and end up finding Coil's civilian name?" She didn't answer him, but she didn't need to. "Are you telling me that Coil himself was a PRT employee?"

"A seconded contractor, technically. But he was in the PRT's paperwork system."

This realization battled against his anger at Fi. That was a pretty blatant disregard for the rules, too. If Coil had broken the rules first, it made Fi's response easier to swallow. Not easy, really, but easier. "Did he know my name?" Jason asked, his worry temporarily overpowering his anger.

"Not officially. He probably saw your face, but he didn't have access to your file unless one of his spies did. That part is still under investigation."

Jason sat on his bed, but Fi didn't join him. Instead she stood, head still bowed, like a plaintive before a judge. "You know how incredible that sounds, Fi? You accidentally found Coil's name? And not just accidently, but _fast_. Immediately after we told you not to."

"I know it sounds bad. I barely believed it." She breathed in and out. "Jason, you need to know… It looks like I probably used that information, or would have if things went differently."

Hesitantly, she looked up to meet his gaze. "He called me Sophie. When Armsmaster and I agreed that we would use his name if we had to, I made a private resolution. If circumstances required that I confront Coil in his civilian life, I would tell him that my name was Sophie. Under no other circumstances would I give him that name, or any other that could contradict it. If forced in any other circumstances to tell him a name, I'd give him the PRT cover of Elizabeth Mason but not Sophie. Sophie was only for an unmasking of Coil. The fact that he knew that name… We don't know _exactly_ what it means, because we don't understand his power, but it's not good."

"Why are you telling me this?" Jason asked.

Fi looked back down at her hands, which were clutching each other in front of her. "You deserve to know. I asked for your trust, and you gave it." She clenched her jaw and raised her eyes again. It was hard for her to keep eye contact, but she was trying. "If I ask for trust from a friend, I have to be willing to give it, too. You have every right to judge me."

That surprised Jason, but she didn't look away. After the way she'd treated him that weekend, he hadn't expected humility from her. He wasn't sure he he'd ever seen her willingly submit herself to anyone, before. He'd been half-afraid that Fi believed the lies they'd told Coil, believe he was blindly loyal to her, believed he was a faithful lap dog.

But one didn't submit to judgement before an underling. You didn't throw yourself on the mercy of someone beneath you. Fi did value him, did understand that his loyalty to her had its limits.

Assuming she wasn't just faking it. As much as he wanted to trust this, wanted to let all the hurt fade into the background, he had to test her sincerity. She was submitting for judgement? Well, Jason would oblige her. "Would you have killed him?"

"Absolutely. If it came to that? Yes. From the moment he said Sophie, your life and your families' lives were potentially in danger. He would only have known that name if I was forced to confront him, or if he somehow foresaw me doing so, and that means he might have known about the planted blackmail, and therefore your identity. He demonstrated himself willing to break the unwritten rules by going after Dinah. I wasn't willing to put your family at risk. That kind of threat deserves a response in kind."

Jason swallowed heavily. He would come back to the very disturbing idea that she was willing to kill to protect his family, but the answer felt rehearsed. He wanted her to tell him something because he asked for it, not because she wanted him to hear it.

"Whose idea was it to escalate at every node?"

"Armsmaster and I both came to the same conclusion independently. We were in agreement from the beginning about what might become necessary."

"Even on the secrecy?"

"Mostly. I convinced him that you should be the one we told about the nodes. Armsmaster wanted it to be Clockblocker."

"Why me?"

"I trust you. I trust Clockblocker too, but I trust you more. And the Triumvirate were more likely to listen to Clockblocker, so it was better if he was ignorant so that he didn't have to try and lie to them."

"You advocated telling me?" Jason double checked.

"Yes."

Jason felt exhausted and the conversation had barely begun. This wasn't what he wanted, what he _needed_ from his friend. He needed a confession, an admission of guilt, but this just felt like a prepared explanation. "You were very convincing when you spoke to Coil." For once, she didn't answer right away, so he pressed the issue. " _What_ you said. _How_ you said it. You played the role extremely well."

Fi sighed, and sank down to the floor, sitting cross-legged before him. Looking down on her, Jason still felt like she was begging him for something, which she essentially was. She was begging for forgiveness.

"I used as much truth with Coil as I could. Until very recently, I _was_ prepared to split from the PRT if it became necessary. I was willing to become an independent, a rogue, a vigilante, or even a villain depending on the circumstances. I would never allow drugs or prostitution if it was in my power to stop it, but… I am… not unfamiliar with the idea of the lesser evils. If the PRT had been more corrupt, and if Coil was less dangerous… in other circumstances, if the PRT proved to be the _greater_ evil, I would have done whatever I must."

Her halting speech came to an end, but Jason didn't speak. She hadn't apologized, but her tone wasn't prideful anymore. She wasn't justifying herself, but she wasn't repenting, either. He didn't know if that was enough for them to rebuild their friendship.

"Jason, I… I don't trust easy. I don't trust the government just because they're the government. I need… more than that. Anyone can call themselves a hero. In New York, I already knew that Legend was corrupt. I hated Eidolon for what I thought was abuse of his power. I had… reasons… to distrust Alexandria. But I knew, if I didn't play their tune, it would be easy, so easy, for them to turn the media and the public against me. I had to accept their leash, and… I don't do leashed well.

"I am accustomed to… independence. Experience. Relying on my own judgement. So I stayed on guard, just in case. I was resentful of the fact that I felt forced into my role, I was mindful of the potential for corruption, and I was willing to act out if it proved to be necessary. I can't apologize for that. But, I… I can say that I'm glad it wasn't necessary. I'm glad that we can be on a team together, that… that it didn't come to that."

She fell silent again, and again he didn't interrupt. He didn't have anything to say to her, and he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with the story she was telling him.

"You're good people, Jason. Good in a way that… I haven't been around in a long time. My family… they're good, but they're tough, too. That goodness gets… not lost, but buried. With Coil, I tapped deeply into that part of me that's more tough than good. Hell, after New York I've given up any right I had to call myself good. I'm not good, not in the same way at least, not anymore. But I know how to be tough. I will do the dirty things to keep others safe. To keep others good. Would I kill for your family? Yes. Absolutely, I would."

"I didn't ask you to," Jason protested.

"It wouldn't occur to you do so."

Jason shook his head, because she was wrong. He _had_ considered the lengths he would go to for his own family. He wasn't some pure-heart hero, he just knew where the lines were. He knew when he was crossing them, and the list of reasons that could push him into crossing them could be counted on one hand.

"It wouldn't," she insisted, reading his disagreement. "You'd kill for them if you had to, if there was an immediate threat, but you wouldn't even consider asking me to make a preemptive strike. You see the actions as fundamentally different. I don't." It was a perfect illustration of the problem: with Fi, it seemed like there was some combination of not knowing where the lines lay, not caring if she crossed them, and flatly refusing to acknowledge them. That was a _dangerous_ combination. "Jason, you're my people. I'd kill for the people you'd kill for. I'd die for the people you'd die for, even though you wouldn't ask it of me."

"What were the other nodes?" he asked, unable to really wrap his head around Fi's unexaggerated promise.

She sucked in a sharp breath, and Jason knew that this, finally, was a question she didn't want to answer. She'd been reluctant to talk about her 'toughness' or whatever, but she'd been willing, and had probably even practiced it. Here was something that pushed her beyond mere discomfort.

After a long moment, where Jason almost thought she would refuse to tell him, Fi finally spoke. "If Coil hadn't demonstrated his power on Saturday night, we were to retreat to Tattletale's safe house with Vista, refusing to give her up without a demonstration. If we had to fight our way out, so be it. Armsmaster would show up with a PRT contingent at 8 am on Sunday morning. I'd escape, possibly with you, if you would come. Armsmaster would appear to be killed. We'd hole up in one of a number of places, and wait for news. If the Triumvent weren't in the city by ten o'clock, then we, or I, would-"

"Stop," Jason whispered, realizing he didn't want to know what came next. It was enough that she would tell him, even though she clearly didn't want to. "It was going to be bad?"

"Yes."

"And you told this to the investigators?"

"Yes. Director Costa-Brown herself insisted on hearing my testimony by video chat."

"What did they say?"

"Nothing official, yet. No one is very happy, but then again, these were all _contingency_ plans. The Chief Director seems to understand that, even if others don't."

"Were you honest with them? Completely?"

"Yes."

Jason sighed. He wasn't ready to forgive, not yet. But at the same time, it was starting to feel like he didn't have anything worth holding a grudge over. All that was left were the little things, the small details that had rubbed on the back of his mind like a pebble in his shoe. "Why won't you be a cape?"

"I, I don't understand the question."

"It's like you refuse to buy into the idea of being a hero. You won't choose a costume, you flaunt your identities and blur the lines. What are you trying to prove?"

She bowed her head again, and Jason thought she might even be ashamed, finally. "I don't want to be one of Legend's soldiers. After New York… I had so little of my own identity left. So little that was _me_. I didn't have my face, my name, my family, my tools… I couldn't wear a stupid spandex cape. I just couldn't. I had to keep something that felt like me."

"And now?" Jason pressed.

"I still don't want to be one of their soldiers."

"How about being our teammate?" he shot back, angry at her implication.

Fi looked up sharply, stricken. "Jason, I didn't mean…"

"But you do. You think I'm one of their soldiers? You think I'm working for people who tortured you? I'm a hero; I help people. I've been helping _you_. That's what heroes do, what the Protectorate does."

Fi swallowed thickly, but she didn't disagree or look away. Jason ran his hand through his hair in frustration. It felt like they were at an impasse, both able to hear the other but somehow still separated by a void between them. Maybe he could offer her a new perspective. "Legend might be the head of the Protectorate, but ultimately he still answers to the PRT Director."

Fi shut her eyes, and her facial expression looked pained.

"What?" Jason demanded, but she shook her head, wiping actually tears away from the corners of her eyes. When she put her hands down, they clenched into white-knuckled fists. "Fi, what is it?"

She shook her head again, harder, and whispered, "I can't, Jason. You don't want to know this. You _don't_. You'll hate me for knowing it, and for telling you."

A pit was opening in Jason's stomach, but he urged her on anyway. "Fi? Tell me what's going on." When she didn't speak, he added, "Either way, you'll still know. Not telling me doesn't change that."

"You hate me for telling you about Coil. You hate that I didn't obey the code."

"I hated that you were going to go after him in his own home and use his civilian identity against him," Jason explained patiently.

She met his eyes in order to give him an incredulous look. "Be honest."

"Honestly," he assured her, "it's not about that fact that you told me, or even just that you knew. It's about not protecting secret identities, and being willing to use Coil's against him. _That's_ the breach of code. Telling a trusted teammate is a far second compared to seeking out the information, or using it." Jason licked his lips. "Whatever you know about Director Costa-Brown… if it's that bad… not telling me doesn't change that you know it, and telling me isn't using it."

"Telling you means that _you_ know it. You have to live with it. I'm begging you Jason, don't ask me this."

"Because you'll tell me," he realised. Fi nodded. If Jason asked again, knowing the gravity of the situation, she'd answer. He thought about waiting until they could be in a more secure location, but that meant the PRT base which was probably a bad place to discuss PRT secrets. He thought about not asking at all, but only for the briefest moment.

He had to understand the irrational hate Fi had for the PRT, to understand why she distanced herself from it so stridently. He wanted to believe that she wasn't paranoid, wasn't just bitter, and so he had to know what drove her. He _had_ to know what justified her resistance, if he was ever going to trust her judgement again. "Tell me."

"Director Costa-Brown is Legend's teammate," Fi whispered in a strangled voice, studying his face. "She's Alexandria."

Jason was glad he was sitting as he tried to absorb that. Alexandria… was the PRT Director. The head of the PRT was a parahuman? Was a parahuman as corrupt as Legend? "You're sure?" He heard himself ask. "Absolutely certain?"

"Yes," Fi whispered, still unable or unwilling to speak at full volume.

This, right here, was why the name Intrepid was so apt. He leapt before he looked, pushed on when he ought to surrender, and stuck his nose where it didn't belong. Often enough, things went right and he would forget that it was luck and not skill that protected him. Then he'd stumble into a mess way above his paygrade and curse himself. When the cape that smote Endbringers and fought vampires told you that you didn't want to know something, that really ought to be a clue-by-four.

"Jason, I'm sorry."

Hoarsely, Jason replied, "Not your fault. I asked." The reassurance didn't ease her misery, but he didn't know what else to say. Knowing that Alexandria was Costa-Brown undermined much of the limited faith he still had in the PRT. Finding out that Coil and Alexandria were both PRT employees, back to back, just made the issue all the worse. How was he supposed to be a Ward when literally every authority figure on the national level was corrupt?

If it wasn't for Armsmaster's willingness to face down the Triumvirate, Jason would be considering throwing in the towel. As it was, he knew he'd need a few days to come to terms with everything.

They sat in silence for several minutes. Jason used the time to try to put his thoughts in order. Was he still raw over the events of the weekend? Yes. But the distrust was gone, drained away, and the anger with it. Fi had made calls he wouldn't have made himself, but they hadn't necessarily been the wrong calls, or made for the wrong reasons. She'd been prepared to deal with the consequences, at least, which was more than he'd feared.

Though she'd been distant and presumptuous at the time, she'd acknowledged that she did owe him explanations after the fact. He'd wanted to call Fi on the carpet, and she'd let him, submitting her actions to his review.

His other objections paled now in comparison with the truths he and Fi had just discussed. For one, it was easier to understand why Fi had a hard time taking cape code seriously when neither the Triumvirate nor the PRT gave it any credence. For another, her willingness to be honest with him, even against her own best judgement or wishes, soothed his fears about the equality in their friendship. He'd wanted to assure himself that he was not just a "loyal minion" in Fi's eyes, and yet, paradoxically, the conversation had restored and cemented his faith in her.

Better her, than a false hero like Alexandria or Legend.

"Who else knows?" Jason finally asked, giving up on sorting out his emotions.

"I don't know who else might have figured it out, or who she herself might have told. But you're the only one _I've_ ever told. Ash knew before he died, but we didn't see any reason to tell anyone else."

Soft gratitude covered his inner turmoil for a moment. Whatever friendships or siblings she'd had in the past, she trusted Jason more than them. Or perhaps, trusted him _differently_ , but the fact remained that she'd never shared this secret with anyone else. He might not like her decision making. He might be intimidated by her brutality. Those were things she'd have to change, or he'd have to come to terms with. But their basic friendship was as strong as ever. Once they worked through the hurt, they would come out alright.

At that moment, if she'd asked him to walk through Hell with her, he might have said yes. Ironically, it was that very perception he'd been hoping to redress, if given the chance.

"What am I going to do with you?" he asked, not expecting an answer.

"Forgive me?" she offered hesitantly. When he didn't answer immediately, she begged him, "Tell me how to be a better hero."

"Is that what you want? To be a hero?"

"I want to be someone you can trust. Someone you can rely on. I am going to try to save the world, but there is no way I can do it alone. Tell me what to do, to make this right, and I will."

The honest request pulled a laugh out of Jason. "It doesn't work like that."

"Why not?" Fi's brow wrinkled in confusion. She stared up at him, waiting for a reply. Jason looked down at her, a little tongue-tied, struck again by the idea that she was a petitioner. This killer, the Ender, adult and child, friend and mystery, was waiting for him to hand down her sentence. It was an uncomfortable thought no matter how Jason tried to see it: not because Jason didn't have a right to be mad or hurt, but because it clearly demonstrated that she didn't know how to be a normal friend.

"Fi…" he couldn't finish. Even without hearing his tone, she somehow seemed to understand that he was at a loss for words. Her face crumbled, reading rejection in his hesitation. She tucked her head down and scrambled to her feet.

"Sorry," she muttered, "I shouldn't have come, shouldn't have put this on you. I can't ask you to do this." She glanced around the room, as though looking for something, then reached for his bedroom door. "I'm _sorry_ ," she muttered again, still not looking up. Jason leaned over and grabbed her arm as she tried to leave.

"Don't," he snapped. She looked up, startled either by his hand or his protest. "Don't run away from this."

She stood, obedient, and after a beat she quietly asked, "What should I have done differently?"

Jason motioned to the bed beside him and commanded, "Tell me what happened. Everything. From the beginning"

She sunk down on the indicated spot. "I think you know it all, now. Clock and I went to Armsmaster to get the basic plan approved just after lunch, Thursday. He required us to take two days for planning and prep. I thought it was because he didn't take the situation seriously enough, rather than because he was already taking Coil more seriously than I was. I got… frustrated. So I accessed PRT records, looking for the spies. I found Coil instead."

Her hands, which had been twisting together in her lap, abruptly stilled as she forced them flat against her legs. She swallowed heavily, and confessed, "I didn't _get it_ , then. I was so focused on being mad at Costa-Brown and worried about other parahumans in the PRT that I completely missed the implications of Coil's identity. I was working on faulty assumptions, and I had already written Coil off as a threat, so I went about my day. I talked to Tattletale, I sparred, I had therapy, I napped, and it wasn't until we were out at the Boardwalk that I realized I had been an idiot."

Jason remembered that conversation, but didn't interrupt her. "I kinda freaked out, after that. I went back to Armsmaster, who was already prepping about half the ideas I had for dealing with Coil as a time manipulator, or at least a more powerful precog than I had been assuming, plus a bunch of his own stuff. Between his plans and mine, we had a decent idea of what we wanted to do within the hour. We told Clock what he needed to know, and then the rest you know."

"What were the assumptions? I thought you _were_ taking Coil seriously."

She chewed on her lip, but answered. "I was taking him seriously, as a potential threat for the Wards to handle. I wasn't taking him seriously as a potential threat to myself or the PRT. I didn't believe anyone's life was in danger beyond my ability to save it. That's arrogant, I know that now, but I'm still getting used to the idea that parahumans are powerful and gunning for me."

"You're kidding, right?" Jason cut in. "You've been on the outs with the Triumvirate since before you triggered. You know what the Endbringers have done, and you don't think parahumans are a threat?"

"Not like that… I just… Okay you just moved here from Texas, right?"

"Sure."

"Well, you're now living in coastal city. Before Eidolon destroyed Leviathan, were you worried about an attack, day in and day out?"

"No. We'd just seen Behemoth."

"Okay, that was a bad example." She rubbed her forehead with her fingers. "My point is that you can know something is dangerous, abstractly, but be accustomed to living with it every day without it actually affecting your life. If it doesn't happen to you, you start to become desensitized to it. Like driving!" She snapped her fingers as she found a better example. "More Americans die in auto-related accidents every year than they do from Endbringers, and yet people aren't afraid of cars."

"So, you're saying that because capes weren't a problem for you in the past, you didn't think they would be now?" That still sounded nutty to him.

"I never had much interaction with capes before New York. Other than being kidnapped, and the mysterious deaths of everyone who investigated that incident, we really didn't cross paths. Capes congregate in large cities, and for the most part I rarely had reason to go into a city with a population greater than fifty thousand people.

"Yamada and I have been talking about this a bit, but it's hard to just forcefully adjust your thinking. I'm accustomed to having the benefit of detailed intelligence. For the most part, hunters know what they're going to be facing when they walk into a situation. Not only that, but once we know the creature's identity, we know the limits of their advantages, favorite tactics, psychology, and specific Achilles heels.

"I was thinking to myself, 'a single werewolf is usually a changer 5, brute 3, and I've seen teams of three hunters take out a den of ten weres or more.' That biased me against taking the ratings seriously. What I forgot to account for was the informational deficit. The hunters know exactly what to expect, they know how to screw with the werewolves' senses, how to dull their reactions, how to target certain members of the pack to throw the others off. We know the best time to go in, and generally, we initiate the encounter. I got cocky."

Jason nodded. As someone who had spent his life living among the damage capes could do and the threat they could pose, it was hard to understand her point on a gut level. Not taking capes seriously was stupid to him on the same level as playing golf in a lightening storm. Logically, however, he could see where she was coming from. Information was almost always one of the most important factors in an encounter.

Good intel let lesser forces overcome or escape from greater ones, which was why thinkers were so powerful. If Fi had enjoyed great intel for most of her life? He could see where it would be hard to adjust. The other thing to consider was the implication of that information. There were a set number of supernatural forces, and they had been well documented and studied for the last five thousand years. Hunters had generations of strategizing and research for every fight.

In contrast, each power was nuanced and different. Secondary, supportive powers that were useless alone could become deadly in the right hands. Information usually came solely from fights between capes or between the capes and the PRT. Additionally, capes were constantly experimenting, growing, and changing, which meant that what data the PRT did have was rarely complete. If Fi didn't learn to adjust, and quickly, it would be a serious problem.

"Go back to Coil," Jason said. "I get not taking capes in general seriously, that's a weakness we can and will address." He was already thinking of ways to do so.

The afternoon of simulations probably hadn't helped her overconfidence; she'd been too successful too easily, based on her knowledge of her opponents' powers and her comfort with firearms. They needed to put her in more realistic situations, without the paint and with real objectives. Maybe they could coordinate with other teams to bring in people whose powers she didn't know. Her arrogance needed to be addressed quickly, before it got someone grievously hurt. Fortunately, she at least recognized the blind spot now and was nodding in agreement with his declaration.

Jason refocused on the real issue at hand. "You had just heard from Tattletale how dangerous he was. How could you write that off?"

She blushed, but didn't look away. "I underestimated Tattletale's abilities. When the situation was first presented to me, I was concerned. I think I was more concerned than anyone else, trying to outthink two thinkers. But then we were able to bring Tattletale in without a single hiccup. After seeing that, I put a cap on my mental assessment of Coil's threat level, when I should have raised my estimation of Tattletale instead.

"I looked at the situation and said, 'Any precog powerful enough to be a threat would never have let Tattletale get to us. Any spies placed high enough to be a threat would have alerted him already.' Even when Tattletale warned us, I just wrote it off as her arrogance instead of mine. In my mind, the ease of our early success limited how dangerous Coil and his people could really be."

"Because you weren't accounting for Tattletale's power giving her an advantage," Jason concluded. "And you probably underestimated her because you're not used to dealing with thinkers in general."

"Probably," Fi agreed. "What's worse is that I let that assumption blind me even after I had evidence that should have contradicted it."

Jason motioned for her to continue.

"When I found Coil's identity, that should have been the red flag that told me I was off base. Instead, I got wrapped up in the implications it had for the PRT, rather than our investigation. I was worried about wide spread conspiracy, not about Coil himself. My subconscious knew something was wrong. I wondered if Coil wasn't what he seemed, tried to figure out if he was a supernatural or maybe a normal pretending to be a parahuman. Both of those ideas died pretty quick deaths, but I knew somewhere in my subconscious that I was missing something and I ignored that feeling.

"All of this was compounded by the second assumption I made. There was evidence a couple years ago that there might be a time manipulator in Brockton Bay. At that time, we tested the area and it came up clean as far as we could tell. I assumed that supernatural tests would work for parahuman time abilities, since they work against precogs, masters, and teleporters. I was certain there couldn't be a time manipulator in Brockton Bay, even when I had Coil's successful double life staring me in the face."

"I thought they officially marked Coil as a precog?" Jason asked.

"They did. There's no evidence he's actually manipulating time, and I'm not saying he definitely is. I'm just saying that I wrote him off when I shouldn't have, partially based on that data. I underestimated him based on old information, which might or might not even have been relevant, and because I didn't trust Tattletale. She rubbed me the wrong way, and I didn't want to give her the credit she was due."

Jason sighed. "I'm not as concerned about your internal prejudices as I am about the fact that you didn't discuss this with the team, or even with me. If you'd talked through these assumptions, maybe we could have caught them."

She nodded forlornly. "That's what Armsmaster said when I debriefed with him. I mean, I couldn't tell him everything because he doesn't know about… everything… but he said I should have gone to the team."

"That's why they call us a team," Jason insisted.

Fi hung her head. "I'm sorry."

"Will you do it different next time?" Jason asked, with as little condemnation as possible.

"Yes. God, yes. I didn't realize I was screwing up, and I have no intention of repeating it. It's not a nice feeling, to look in the mirror and realize that you're a privileged, arrogant person."

"This isn't the first time that you said you were going to change. After Sophia got outed and Taylor joined the team, you told us then you'd do better."

Fi grimaced, but Jason didn't let up from his harsh stare. It was important that she realize this was a pattern of behavior, so that she'd work that much harder to change it. It was also important to remind himself that this was a reoccurring theme, so that in the future he'd compensate by asking more questions and pushing her for details.

Fi had to swallow before she could speak. "I'm not a lone wolf anymore. I know that, I just… I'm having trouble adjusting. Yamada and I are talking about it, a lot. I don't know what I can do except keep trying, and keep apologizing."

"Everyone has their flaws," he told her. She gave him a look that was almost hopeful. "So, yes, I forgive you." Her shoulders sagged in relief as a huge sigh escaped her body. The obvious loss of tension reassured Jason even more. She had been worried he wouldn't forgive her, so she did honestly care about that forgiveness.

"Thank you," she whispered almost reverently.

He considered leaving it at that, but he couldn't let it go without one more reminder. "Next time, let me in."

Fi met his gaze steadily. "I will."

"I mean it. I'll stand by you through whatever shit life gives us, but we're partners, Fi. You don't get to make unilateral judgemental calls like this."

"I know," she said, with the weight of promise. Jason sighed heavily, letting the hurt and tension fade with his exhale. Fi mirrored the action a moment later, her shoulders and posture loosening also. The promise wasn't a true fix - that would take time and effort from both of them. But it was a start.

"Good." Jason injected his voice with false levity and stood up. "Now come on, we've got dusting to do." Her face lit up almost comically. "You have an unhealthy fascination with housework," he told her as he gave her hand up off the bed. "Cooking, washing…"

"I have a fascination with having an actual house," she retorted in a joking tone.

"Wait, really?" Jason asked as they descended the stairs. With Fi in front of him, she couldn't read his expression but her glasses would catch his words.

"Well, I mean, it's not like I've _never_ lived in a house before. Just… not usually," she told him casually. Jason opened his mouth, and then shut it. He decided to just be grateful for the ungrudging help.

While they dusted the living room and dining room, Fi asked about school and about how he was dealing with the move in general. Jason told her about his classes, which were still easy, and the friends he'd made at lunchtime. He assured her that Taylor was sitting on the edge of their group to eat. She wasn't really a part of the group, but at least no one came by and bothered her. Then the conversation dropped off and Fi turned contemplative.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Jason asked as they moved to the upstairs bedrooms.

"Thinking about being a cape, and my identities."

"Yeah?" he probed, wanting to see what she'd say. He hadn't meant to harp on that in particular, because in the grand scale of things her costume didn't really matter. He'd been more concerned about her not buying into being a hero, which made more sense now that he knew all the facts.

"I think there's room for compromise." Fi said, watching him carefully for his approval, unaware of his thoughts. "Now that Beetle's undershirt is finished, I can choose a single overlayer. I want to keep the jeans and tennis shoes as part of the whole capeless thing. Those funds are doing a lot of good. And the clothes are practical. Armsmaster is already on me to have a more protective headpiece, maybe even a full helmet."

Jason waited, sensing she wasn't done. There wasn't enough compromise in what she'd just said to account for her tentative tone. "Maybe the answer is to go the opposite way. To wear the disguise as a civilian. Wear a wig, dress in cargo pants, make that the false face."

"That would help," he acknowledged. It was an unconventional way to go about it, but it made a certain amount of sense. Fi spent more time as a cape than as a civilian, since she'd given up on going to school. Unless and until that changed, it made sense to let her cape identity be more true to herself.

Fi smiled at him, and Jason returned it. She was listening to his concerns. Acting on them. Maybe they were closer to being equal teammates than he'd feared.


	43. A Rose By Any Other Name

**Chapter Forty-Three: A Rose By Any Other Name**

 **April 13, 2011**

 **Wednesday, Kayden Anders**

Kayden Anders was considering changing her name. She was officially divorced from Max, had been for nearly a year, and yet she hadn't gone back to her maiden name. At first, she hadn't thought about it. There had been so much else to do, so much that was more important to her future and to Aster's.

Then, when it had finally dawned on her that she was still using Max's name, she had brushed the thought aside. Anders wasn't just his name, not anymore. It was Aster's too, and Kayden knew that Max would never let her raise Aster as a Russell. He wouldn't give up that grip on his daughter, and by extension his ex-wife.

The name Anders also hid the gap between her and Theo, who was spending more and more time with her and Aster. He was a good big brother, even if he wasn't her son, and Kayden knew he needed to feel a human connection to someone other than Max. He wasn't her responsibility, wasn't her child, wasn't her problem. But even so, abandoning the Anders name was, in a small way, abandoning Theo.

Aster's body went limp as the little girl finally fell asleep. Kayden continued to walk around the apartment, bouncing Aster just slightly. It wasn't often in her life that she got a quiet moment like this, just holding her precious daughter and listening to the quiet of a weekday morning. In an hour or less Aster would be awake again, and screaming again from her ear infection. But at this moment, all was well.

There should really be a rule in life about dramatic timing. Namely, that it was dramatic and as such had no place in life.

The knock on the door was worrying, mostly because it was unexpected. It was too early for a mail service, and too late in the morning for most of her neighbors, who worked. Kayden shifted Aster just slightly, so that her daughter was laying against her left shoulder and Kayden's right hand was free. Then she walked over to her door and looked through the peephole.

Alexandria was standing on her doorstep.

Purity considered running right then and there. She could take Aster and just go, as far and as fast as possible, flying until they were in the middle of nowhere, and try to start over with a new name. The thought of her identity was what stopped her. The PRT evidently knew who she was, and Max most certainly did. Neither of them would just let her hide.

Carefully, so as not to wake her daughter, Purity opened her front door. Alexandria didn't react to the sight of Aster, or give any other sign that this was an unusual encounter. The two capes had only previously interacted at Endbringer fights, both of them often in the thick of the action, and Alexandria had the same intensity about her now as she radiated then. Purity wondered if she always had it, or if the heroine was preparing herself for battle.

"May I come in?" Alexandria asked, her voice mild.

Purity wordlessly stepped back, letting Alexandria into her apartment.

"Thank you," Alexandria said, but Purity didn't answer her. Her legs were starting to hurt from being tensed so tightly, even for the short time since the knock on the door, as Purity prepared fling herself in any direction at the slightest sign of trouble. "You need to listen very carefully, because I won't say this twice."

Alexandria paused, waiting for an answer this time, and Purity nodded, never taking her eyes off of Alexandria, even as she pictured her escape route in her mind: launch herself toward the window, blast it apart, hold Aster against her chest and curl into a fetal position to protect her daughter from falling glass, and then get as far away as possible. Out of America, certainly.

"You might be aware that Coil was captured very early on Monday morning," Alexandria's voice cut across her thoughts. "He was held and interrogated for thirty-six hours before he managed to kill himself. One of the first and only things he admitted was that he was building dossiers on capes, working to uncover their true names. As proof of concept, he claimed that you, Kayden Anders, are Purity. He also threatened that if he was not released, all of the information he had gathered would be released publically, on Saturday at noon."

Purity gripped Aster even tighter, and the girl stirred. Reflexively, Purity started bouncing just slightly to calm her back into sleep. Her face, released publically? She'd finally gotten away from Max, away from the Empire Eighty-Eight, and now it was going to follow her? To invade the one piece of her life that she'd managed to protect?

Alexandria wasn't done speaking yet. "The PRT has no evidence that there is any connection between Kayden Anders and Purity, except the questionable testimony of a criminal they do not trust. We don't know if Coil was lying, or bluffing, but most suspect he was. Do you understand what I am telling you?"

Shakily, Purity nodded. Alexandria… wasn't here to arrest her. That's what she was saying. The other heroine nodded decisively. "Good. Purity has been a significant asset in the Endbringer fights. It would be a shame to lose her after she turned her back on the Empire and Kaiser, even if she chose to become a vigilante instead of joining the Protectorate."

Purity's thoughts derailed. Join the Protectorate? She'd never considered the possibility. She'd killed people, as Purity. Not many, and not recently, but she had. Alexandria turned to leave, but Purity had to ask, had to know. "Could… I mean, do villains do that?" She copied Alexandria's avoidance of actually admitting she was Purity. "Could Purity have turned herself in?"

Alexandria met her gaze squarely.

"She could. An extremely powerful cape, who has already turned her back on her past, and who has participated in no less than ten Endbringer encounters? A place could be found for her. Of course, it would be much easier for everyone involved if she had turned herself in already. If she tries to do it after Coil's blackmail leaks, it might be harder for others to trust her."

Kayden nodded. "Thank you, that's… that's good to know."

"You're welcome." With that, Alexandria walked out the door. Kayden glanced at the clock. It was 9:44 AM. She had just over three days, assuming that both Coil and Alexandria had been telling the truth. She needed to turn herself in, immediately. With what excuse? It would be too suspicious if she just gave herself up out of nowhere. Oh well, she'd figure that out on the way.

On her shoulder, Aster started to whimper in her sleep, the ear infection making rest nearly impossible.

If Kayden was going to do this, she couldn't do it in Brockton Bay. She couldn't stay within Kaiser's immediate grasp. She needed to go to New York, to Legend. Purity had encountered Alexandria on the battlefield, and they'd been tensely cordial whenever circumstances required that they work together. But she'd flown side-by-side with Legend. She'd become his unspoken second among the long-range blasters, and only unspoken because she was a villain. If she was turning herself in to anyone, if she was taking this risk, she was going to do it in New York.

Kayden carried Aster to the bedroom, then put on her costume. She found the closest thing Aster had to match, a mostly-white onesie, though it did have pink rabbits on the chest. Theo had bought it for Aster just a few months ago, and it was still a little big, but he'd been so proud to see her in it.

The thought of Theo wasn't enough to stop Kayden, but it was enough to distract her temporarily. How many names did Coil have? Were they just members of the Empire? Kaiser and Coil had struggled fiercely over control of the Boardwalk and certain nicer neighborhoods of downtown. She didn't recall any reports of Coil fighting as viciously with the ABB, Merchants, or other villains over the years. It wasn't inconceivable that Coil had focused his espionage and blackmail on the Empire Eighty-Eight.

After another moment of indecision, Purity gritted her teeth. There was nothing she could do for Theo without potentially alerting Kaiser, or compromising the deal she'd just been offered. Alexandria had been very careful to exaggerate the distance between Purity and the Empire Eighty-Eight. The general public hadn't noticed yet, but it was true that Purity always acted alone now. She'd gone after the ABB almost exclusively, which Alexandria had deftly rebranded as "vigilantism."

Purity could work with that. She had no fondness or respect for those of other races, and plenty of reasons to hate organized scum like the Asian and black gangs that were so prevalent. But she wasn't like some of the rank and file of the Empire. She could converse with, even touch or work alongside, those of lesser birth, so long as they weren't actively destroying the rest of the world.

Kayden told herself that she couldn't let anything jeopardize this chance for her and Aster. Not Theo, not idealism, and not her past. She told herself that she didn't know for sure that Geoff, Dorothy, or Justin were even in danger, but if she _had_ been sure she still might not have called them. Kayden had to look out for Aster first and foremost.

Purity loaded Aster into her carry pouch, and strapped her in more securely than usual. It would be less than an hour before she arrived in New York, so Aster would just have to hold on. Kayden went to her purse, and fished out her credit cards, driver's license, and checkbook. Carrying her secret identity while in costume would normally be a reckless move, but it was entirely possible that she would not be coming back to Brockton Bay, ever.

Finally, she went to stand on her balcony, let the light infuse her whole being, and sped towards New York.

* * *

 **April 14, 2011**

 **Thursday, Doctor Mother**

"We have thinned out Calvert's exposure files, but it should still be enough to severely weaken the Empire without throwing the Bay into total turmoil," Alexandria reported.

"Purity accepted the warning, as we hoped she would," Legend added. "She's undergoing thinker evaluation now, and should be ready to announce her defection tomorrow evening. The timing will be close, but it should be overshadowed by Coil's sheer audacity."

Legend's reaction to the revelation of Cauldron's full details had been a pleasant surprise. It had taken him two weeks to think through the implications, and make peace with it, but he had chosen to return, even after the Doctor offered to let him withdraw and focus solely on the Protectorate.

Legend wasn't pleased with what Cauldron had done, but he was coming to terms with its necessity. There was still some tension, but he seemed determined to work through it to defeat their common enemy. It helped, of course, that they'd already abandoned the research into forced natural triggers so that there were not people being actively tortured by the time they had to brief him.

It had actually been Legend's idea to kidnap Coil and force him to use his powers for Cauldron's benefit, rather than locking him in the Birdcage where he would be useless.

"Brockton Bay doesn't suspect anything," Eidolon said quietly. "They believed the cover story about his suicide." Legend and Alexandria exchanged a long look at this, but the Doctor didn't interrupt him.

Eidolon's reaction to discovering the source of the Endbringers had been about what one would expect, if they knew him. He had been, and still was, wracked with guilt. For the most part, that guilt had driven him forward with renewed vigor. He was a more dedicated soldier than ever before, though he was spending significant time using thinker powers to double check their plans and base assumptions.

In one area, however, he would hear no reason. He believed he owed a deep and abiding debt to Contract, and would no longer tolerate even reasonable precautions where she was concerned. He'd demanded that all efforts to investigate her be abandoned, and considered his daily check-in on Brockton Bay to be the only coverage acceptable.

On the Doctor's orders, Alexandria had not disbanded the Protectorate think tank but rather cut Eidolon out of the communication loop. She'd thought it was implied that Alexandria should also stop updating the Brockton Bay locals, but they'd still been receiving abridged reports. Eidolon was not pleased to learn of this, and Alexandria had capitulated, rather than further strain the Triumvirate's tender relationships.

Whereas the rest of them were quite concerned with Contract's apparent ability to re-write powers, Eidolon was unwilling to even consider that they might eventually need to control or confront her. After a moment of silence, Eidolon continued. "If Coil can be used to eliminate the unsuccessful trials, we should be able to increase our output by at least sixty percent."

"Assuming his precognition is sufficient where so many others have failed," Contessa cautioned.

"Is there any way to test it?" Legend asked. "Any way to know for sure, before we make him a critical component in the plans?"

"Seventy-four steps," Contessa informed them.

"Contract doesn't think it _is_ precognition," Alexandria said, carefully not looking at Eidolon. "Based on her debriefing, she thinks Coil might actually be experiencing multiple, actual dimensions simultaneously. She didn't say why, and as the Director I couldn't push the issue, but it might be worth trying to test. Or asking her directly."

Eidolon shifted, leaning forward. "I'll speak with her," he volunteered forcefully, precluding anyone else from doing so. Legend gave him a sympathetic glance. Where Alexandria was mostly frustrated by Eidolon's new blind spot, Legend was more understanding.

The Doctor was willing to tolerate it for now. She suspected it would fade with time, even as Eidolon's self-flagellation would fade. It was a natural for him to feel some guilt, but the reality was that Eidolon hadn't known, he'd had no way of knowing, and he'd acted to correct the mistake immediately once he knew.

"Are there any names we want to _add_ to Coil's files?" Alexandria asked, redirecting the conversation. "Since we've decided to go ahead with the reveal anyway, we may as well get the maximum milage out of it."

"Kaiser himself, perhaps?" Legend speculated. "It would let Purity explain that she was manipulated and then threatened into staying with the Empire as long as she did. An emotionally battered wife will be much more sympathetic than a recently repentant vigilante. And Coil had to have known, even if he didn't yet have the evidence necessary to include Kasier in his list."

"It would destabilize all of Brockton Bay," Eidolon countered. "We want to weaken the Empire and encourage them to diversify into other cities, not open a civil war. I was thinking we might add a few of the Gesellschaft or other villains, to build natural solidarity between them."

Eyebrows perked around the table as they considered this new idea. It certainly had promise. Legend, in particular, was eager. "The key will be finding names that Coil himself could have uncovered, as Coil and not as Calvert."

* * *

 **April 15, 2011**

 **Friday, Director Piggot**

"Any update on the investigation into Coil's organization?" Emily asked her deputy directors. They'd covered all the usual topics and issues, specifically saving this situation for last. Internal Affairs hadn't finished clearing all of the PRT's contractors, but she still had a core of actual employees who had been checked and declared loyal by emergency thinker action.

Emily had insisted that everyone, even herself, be included in the comprehensive investigation, which had by necessity meant informing her Deputy Directors of Coil's identity once they were cleared to know it.

"The warrant on Kayden Anders' residence was denied," Deputy Director Renick informed the room grimly. "The New York Thinkers reported that Coil was bluffing when he gave up her name."

Around the table, bodies shifted uneasily. Emily pursed her lips. She hadn't wanted to send Coil's interrogation tape to New York in case his thinker abilities were able to fool theirs. She had been overruled by the Chief Director, and now that decision had cost them the chance to actually investigate his threats.

"Internal Affairs found two more compromised individuals," Deputy Director Juarez reported. "Both level three clearance."

"Christ," cursed Deputy Director Roberts. "Please say it's the same department, at least?"

Deputy Director Juarez shook his head. "Accounting and hiring."

Quiet oaths echoed from all three deputies. Roberts slapped the table in frustration, her manicured nails adding a _click_ to the wet sound. "This is getting ridiculous. How did we not see it?"

Juarez cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Coil planned this carefully, over the course of years. He started recruiting individuals a decade ago, and didn't even try to insert himself until they were well placed and entrenched. He solicited contracts first as an independent hire, without any clearance at all. After three years of his successes, we issued the invitation for a seconded squad. Even after that, he waited another year before he put himself on that seconded team. By then, he was a well known and trusted face."

"Each mole covered for the next, until they were covering for Coil himself," Renick sighed.

"I doubt they knew that," Juarez cautioned. As the deputy interacting with Internal Affairs on a daily basis, he had the most information about the current situation.

"Does it matter?" Roberts asked, rubbing her forehead.

Emily let her team talk, listening and absorbing the information. She had a good handle on the situation already, but it was important to let them all decompress a bit before they got into the meat of the next issue, or else they'd wander back into this territory unwittingly.

"Maybe not," Juarez admitted. "But it does explain how he was able to influence so many people. Several don't seem to know exactly who they were working for."

"I don't know if that's better or worse," Roberts insisted.

"Ma'am?" Renick asked, soliciting her opinion. Emily leaned forward, and reflexively her people leaned in as well, sensing the more serious shift in her mood.

"My primary concern is that he might not have been bluffing about the identities. What do we do, if a list _is_ released, in just under nineteen hours?"

The Deputy Directors exchanged glances. They'd all thought about it, she knew they had. It was how the job worked: you couldn't _not_ think about such things. By silent consensus, Roberts was elected to speak first. Her position gave her the most official contact with the public.

"If it is sent to the media as well as to us, we'll have to act on it. Issue warrants, or at least try to bring people in for questioning. The rules are all well and good among capes who all have an interest in maintaining them, but you can't explain that to Joe Public."

"It will be a bloodbath," Renick said, not in contradiction but simply because it needed to be said. "Maybe not literally, but it won't be pretty. Any list of any kind, even just a few names, will be seen as a direct attack. With Coil dead, the PRT might well be the enemy they come gunning for. And to be frank, the Protectorate might not even be willing to execute the warrants."

"So we have squads do it," Roberts replied.

"Do you want to tell our people they're taking down Kaiser without backup? And with half the contract squads still on leave, pending investigation?" Renick barked harshly back at her.

Emily held up a hand to stop the discussion before it got out of control. She glanced at Juarez next, who spoke up obligingly. "We could downplay it. Insist that this is a lie from Coil meant to force his enemies into attacking each other. We declare that we are investigating every lead, but will take no premature action. Then we can proceed slowly in whichever direction is best."

"That depends on what sort of evidence he releases," Renick countered, but he sounded more thoughtful than contrary.

Roberts was not so optimistic. "Coil wasn't an idiot. His list is probably accurate, or at least very plausible. As soon as it goes public, we'll have neighbors and coworkers breaking down our doors to confirm it, or else panicking if we do nothing."

"Damned if we react, damned if we don't," Renick summed up.

"That being the case, I'd rather bring the villains in," Roberts stated forcefully.

"I agree," Emily told her. "What is the best way to do so?"

Renick reluctantly answered. "We could provoke them. If we issue a press release pre-emptively, stating only that Coil made threats of an unspecified nature against unspecified capes in Brockton Bay, the papers won't run it. It's too vague. Once a list comes out, if it does, the media will latch on once it's already too late and at that point it will only serve to rile those that have been exposed. If they attack, it would put us in the clear to arrest them immediately without breaking the unwritten rules or upsetting the public."

Emily grimaced. She spent her days trying to minimize and control cape violence. It felt dirty to be thinking of purposefully poking that delicate balance. Even though she knew the answer, she still turned to Juarez. "Have the IT people found his list, yet?"

"No, ma'am. No list, and no definitive proof that one might exist."

They sat around the table in silence for a moment, faced with their unpleasant alternatives. Ultimately, however, this was her choice, as the director. She turned to Renick, who was in charge of PR as well as the cape teams and intelligence gathering. "Draft a press release for tomorrow morning, 6 am. Include Coil's threat, our inability to confirm it, and an announcement that if any such list appears, the PRT will investigate any claims and react only after receiving independent confirmation.

"Emphasize that we will not accept the word of a villain against his rivals as automatically trustworthy. See if you can also work in a bit of legal details. Any 'evidence' Coil posts will be tainted, legally, and I'd like to try to get the public to understand that. Cape law is already convoluted enough; let's avoid starting a plague of vigilante information gathering that would interfere with normal investigations in the future."

"Yes, ma'am," Renick agreed, his pen flying as he finished his summary of her dictation. Emily knew he'd have a draft ready for her within the hour, even if he had to write it personally. She'd probably left the situation too late, but she'd been hoping until the last minute that they'd get confirmation of the threat and be able to call on wider resources.

"Is there anything else?" she asked, opening the floor.

"We could use the capes themselves," Roberts offered tentatively. Emily motioned encouragingly for her to continue. "Tell the local Protectorate about Coil's threats, and ask one or more of them to speak up about cape identities if the list does go public. Secret identities are already a subject of concern here in Brockton Bay because of New Wave. I'm sure at least one of the Protectorate would have views that might help the situation."

"The Protectorate are all technically PRT agents. Anything they say is just as bad as if we say it," Renick disagreed.

"The Wards aren't," Juarez offered.

Roberts understood his hint immediately. "Contract would be a good choice for a lot of reasons. She's the public darling, for one. Generally speaking she's handled herself well enough in front of the camera."

Renick snorted. "The problem with Contract is that she'll ultimately say whatever she wants to say. We'd have to talk to her about her actual opinion. If we give her a party line, she won't follow it. And even if the Wards aren't technically full agents, whatever she says will still reflect back on us."

"So we at least ask her," Roberts insisted.

Emily considered the idea. There were advantages and disadvantages to using Contract. They'd be turning her into a lightening rod for the issue of secret identities, when she was already championing her "capeless funds" and refusing to pick a costume. Certainly, she'd have to stick with a single image after this if she was going to defend a cape's right to a mask.

It was useless to try to speculate without data more data, and it would all be a moot point if she wasn't willing to cooperate with them. "Get her up here. We'll see where she stands on the issue." Emily turned to Renick, "You should probably have someone start on the press release as well. We're not hanging our hats solely on a teenaged cape."

* * *

 **April 16, 2011**

 **Saturday, PHO**

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 **Topic: PRT Press Release: Coil's List?**

 **In: Boards ► Brockton Bay ► New and Events**

 **Reave** (Original Poster) (Verified PRT Agent)  
Posted On Apr 16th 2011:

Hello everyone!

The PRT just released [this] to the press and other major outlets. I thought I would repost it here for general discussion. The major points are this:

1) After Coil was arrested last Sunday (see [this thread] for details) and before he killed himself 40 hours later, he threatened to release an unspecified number of cape identities. This release was supposedly auto-timed to happen at noon today. No timezone was specified.

2) He did not specify whose identities he knew, how he knew, or even what teams they were on.

3) The PRT have been unable to verify his threats. Neither thinkers nor evidence support his claim. However, because outing a cape is so serious, the PRT has chosen to issue this warning.

 **(Showing page 2 of 9)**

► **AverageAlexandros** (Cape Husband)  
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

First, even if Coil only releases villain identities, he would still be putting innocent people in the line of fire. Kids, wives, friends, even coworkers.

Second, I think it's pretty optimistic to hope that he doesn't have at least one or more hero identities in his security plan. He was trying to threaten the PRT. If a hero does get outted, then they are in danger and so is their family. WE don't get any protection, guys, and our loved ones are out there risking their lives for all of you. So I'd appreciate it if you would take this seriously.

► **White Fairy** (Veteran Member)  
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Alexandros makes an excellent point. Here's another one you guys seem to be missing: secret identities protect EVERYONE.

If Coil suddenly releases a bunch of names, he's not the one that has to deal with the aftermath. He's dead, checked out, and gone. Brockton Bay is the one that has to clean up his mess. Oni Lee is bad enough as-is. Do you want to be standing next to him in a couple hours when his face gets splashed across national television? Or Kaiser? Or even Uber & Leet?

Capes still have to eat. Right now, they can do their grocery shopping in their civilian identities and no one gets hurt. If they don't have that option, things are going to escalate and fast.

Brockton Bay has enjoyed a tense quiet ever since the Ender finished the job. I would hate to see something like this set off all the various powder kegs who have been living here in relative peace. We've got good heroes and PRT peeps, I don't mean to disparage them, but I don't think we've got close to enough of them to contain the situation if Coil does have some big "F*** You" waiting in the wings.

► **XxVoid_CowboyxX  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Yeah, but we've got the Ender. What is anyone really going to do?

► **z0mb1e KILLER  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

dude, what is wrong with you? she's not a fairy godmother. She can only be in one place at one time.

► **Lolitup  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm with Cowboy. I wouldn't want to be the cape that pissed off the Ender.

► **Ne  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

I don't think you guys get it. Having your face exposed is literally game over as a cape. It's a threat on their lives and the lives of everyone they love. They have no reason to hold back anymore.

► **Ryus** (Veteran Member)  
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

This is BS. Coil doesn't have a leak list. If he did, he wouldn't have killed himself.

► **Space Zombie  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

I'm taking a vacation just in case. Can you imagine what Hookwolf could do if he had reason to go no-holds barred?

► **BadSamurai  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

where have you been? Hookwolf was arrested the day before the Simurgh vanished, and has been in the Birdcage for twenty days now.

► **Lolitup  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Hookwolf is down because Contract put him down. Like I said, you don't mess with the Ender.

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 **(Showing page 3 of 9)**

► **Reave** (Original Poster) (Verified PRT Agent)  
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Strictly speaking, Clockblocker and Gallant took down Hookwolf. Contract was engaged with his non-powered backup, who were turned over to the Brockton Bay police on scene.

► **Lolitup  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

So you guys say. Contract killed the ENDBRINGERS. Why would she need backup?

► **Helsing** (Moderator)  
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Let's not get into that again. If you want to argue about Contract's powers, apparent powers, or what have you, go to the [appropriate board]. This thread is to discuss the PRT press release from this morning.

► **Contract** (Verified Cape) (NYC 2011)  
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Thanks Helsing. Reaves is correct. Clockblocker and Gallant took down Hookwolf while I handled his accomplices. And for the record, I am hoping that Coil's threat was an empty one. I have no wish to see any cape exposed like this, nor do I want to deal with the aftermath.

Having a secret identity or not is a personal decision, and each cape has to make it for themselves. Capes with secret identities have good reasons for that decision. Even for criminals, it's not just about getting away with crimes. It's about protecting the people you love. It's about taking control over your life, usually following an extremely traumatic experience. It's about defining who you want to be.

We've got ten minutes until the deadline, and I'm praying that this has all just been a theoretical exercise.

► **TuringTest  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Contract, I don't mean to disrespect what you or other heroes do, but I think you're wrong. When a villain uses a mask to hurt others and protect themselves, they lose the right to that mask. They've decided that they are "defining" themselves as a killer, and it's not right that they get away with that, with the support and help of heroes like yourself.

► **Glory Girl** (Verified Cape) (NYC 2011)  
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Even as a hero who chose the other road from Contract, I'm not sure you can say she's wrong. New Wave advocates for heroes _choosing_ to expose themselves, but not for forcing capes of any kind to be forced into the open.

If you start requiring villains to unmask, where does it stop? Can you unmask every villain, no matter the crime? In doing so, you'll force many much deeper into the criminal world. Would you unmask everyone you arrest? Technically, they're not guilty yet.

And what about people like Purity? She just turned herself into the Protectorate in NYC. She was a villain, yes, and killer. But she still fought the Endbringers. She's negotiating now for what sort of punishment she'll serve and when or if she'll be able to take up work as a _hero_. Now you can argue all you want about whether she should be allowed to switch sides or what sort of punishment she deserves. That's not my point.

My point is that if her identity had been exposed, she and her entire family would be in danger for the rest of her life, no matter what else happens.

► **Bagrat** (The Guy in the Know) (Veteran Member)  
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

This just crossed from a theoretical exercise into practical reality. [Here's] the list.

► **TheGnat  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Really? Like, all the Empire were out-ed except Kaiser? Isn't that a bit of an oversight?

► **Brocktonite03** (Veteran Member)  
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Coil's website has been taken down, but he also emailed the list to a number of news outlets so we should have more details soon. For everyone's convenience, I am going to keep a running list of the cape names who are confirmed to be on the list.

From the Empire...

1) Hookwolf  
2) Purity  
3) Menja  
4) Fenja  
5) Stormtiger  
6) Night  
7) Rune

Possibly some other non-parahuman people too. Details are a bit sketchy, but I've heard there's somewhere from three to twenty normal lieutenants on the list.

Note that this is more than half the Empire's cape roster, and evidently Coil wasn't keeping the list closely updated because it includes Hookwolf's information even though he is in the Birdcage.

The list seems to be mainly aimed at the Empire, but there are a few others:

8) Browbeat, who is evidently an underage independent hero. None of the news outlets are releasing his information, but I was told verbally it was on the list.  
9) Trainwreck  
10) Labyrinth, who is apparently also underage. Even though she's a mercenary for hire, none of the media are touching this one either, at least not yet.

There may be others. I heard there are a couple names no one recognizes, possibly other US heroes or even international capes. No one is willing to send out their list, these are just the ones I compiled from various sources and snooping.

► **Answer Key  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Holy shit. Contract is interviewing live on this very issue. Stream it [here.]

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 **(Showing page 4 of 9)**

► **TuringTest  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Contract: "This is an attack on all capes"

Really, that's the line you're going to stick with?

► **Space Zombie  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Coil's list included at least one hero, so yes, Coil was attacking ALL CAPES regardless of their alignment. Considering that he also put unpowered minions on the list, it wasn't even about capes. It was about trying to paint a target on his enemies, which does in fact include heroes.

► **One in a Minion** (Verified PRT Agent)  
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

I think it's important to remember that Coil was not an officer of the law. Quite the opposite. Just because his list claims someone is guilty doesn't mean that they are.

► **TuringTest  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

At least now we know why Purity jumped ship.

► **Lolitup  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

If Purity knew that her name was on a list somewhere, she would have taken Coil out personally. She's almost as strong as Legend.

She said in her interview last night that she left the Empire ages ago. She's been going after the ABB on her own for _months_. She gave herself up after she heard that Coil had been captured. One, as one of the only other independent capes in BB, she knew it was a matter of time before she got arrested for her past. Two, she wants to go straight and is hoping the PRT will give her leniency, since she's had a couple months as an "independent vigilante" to prove her change of heart.

Her reasons might be crap, (personally I think she was afraid of being taken out by the Ender now that she's "independent") but there's no way she knew about this and didn't tell anyone or act on it in any way.

► **Answer Key  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Contract: "The mask is a way for people to stay in control of their powers, instead of the other way around. Even those who aren't protecting a secret identity, like New Wave, still understand the importance of having a hero identity separate from your daily life... in the case of capes, keeping your life segregated is statistically proven to help with mental health. Look at people who don't draw that distinction. Most of them are unbalanced in one way or another. Jack Slash in particular comes to mind."

Is Contract saying that every cape would go Jack Slash if they didn't play dress up?

► **AverageAlexandros** (Cape Husband)  
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Of course not. But they would break down. That's not just capes, either. Police and other officers are also encouraged to have a healthy work-life balance. Look at soldiers who come back from war and the mental trauma they go through.

Contract isn't worried about capes turning into killers, she's worried about them falling apart, personally and emotionally. Like a police officer hangs up his gun when he gets home, capes need the ability to distance themselves and decompress.

► **TuringTest  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

And why should I care about the mental health of killers?

► **z0mb1e KILLER  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Well, then, _that's_ where you run into the Jack Slashes of the world.

► **Reave** (Original Poster) (Verified PRT Agent)  
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Contract: "This so-called evidence isn't legally admissible in a court of law. It wasn't obtained legally, and it wasn't submitted legally. This isn't even usable in the same way as an anonymous tip. It might be possible to get a search warrant or bring someone in for questioning, but I doubt it. Coil is not a trustworthy source, in the least."

Thank you, Contract, for acknowledging that a villain cannot do our job better than we can.

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 **(Showing page 5 of 9)**

► **Bagrat** (The Guy in the Know) (Veteran Member)  
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

A little more legal background which was just sent to me by a lawyer friend, and is relevant to what Contract just said live on the air:

"An anonymous tip alone is not enough to bring someone in. If it was, everyone could use the police as their personal pranking service. Coil's list is even more suspicious, because it is not an anonymous source, it is a criminal source. Now, if there is already suspicion on anyone, then this might be enough to ADD UP to a search warrant, but that requires there to already be other evidence gathered."

[personal details omitted]

"Even IF Coil's information is accurate, and complete, and verifiable (and any one of those is a big if) it was almost certainly obtained illegally. He probably hacked into bank records and private accounts to get this info. If the police did the same thing, people would be up in arms, and rightly so. Accepting this information could constitute a serious breach of privacy. Lawyers would be able to use that to get mistrials for their clients, and put the villains right back on the streets."

► **Nod  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

OMG. This is information is so completely true! My neighbor disappeared at the same time as Hookwolf was arrested, and the list says they're the same guy!

► **z0mb1e KILLER  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Be glad he's already locked away, or you might be dead right now. This, right here, is why this list is a horrible idea.

► **Antigone  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Does anyone else find it weird that there's been zero villain response so far?

► **AppleHat** (Veteran Member) (NYC 2011)  
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Contract: "Americans have the right to privacy. They have the right to be presumed innocent until proven guilty. This list flies in the face of both of those basic rights."

Preach!

► **bothad  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Maybe the villains are waiting to see what the heroes do before they make their move?

► **Deadman  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Contract: "My secret identity protected my family after New York. It may not be a stipulated right, yet, but it ought to be. And being a hero means fighting for everyone's rights, not just your own."

► **TuringTest  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

We have a right to freedom, but we lock up criminals. Being a criminal MEANS forfeiting rights.

► **Ekul  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

I'm with TuringTest. Why are we protecting Nazi bastards?

► **AppleHat** (Veteran Member) (NYC 2011)  
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Voltaire said it best, when speaking of freedom of speech. "I do not agree with what you have to say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it." Freedom means protecting _all_ rights.

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 **(Showing page 6 of 9)**

► **Lolitup  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—

Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—

Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—

Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

► **AppleHat** (Veteran Member) (NYC 2011)  
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Contract: "I am a survivor of rape, and an escapee of human trafficking. If anyone has a right to hate white supremacists, it's me."

Holy crap. Does that mean what I think it means?

► **Lolitup  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Why would the E88 target Contract? She's white.

► **Bruce Lao  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Don't stop the quote there: "I am a survivor of rape, and an escapee of human trafficking. If anyone has a right to hate white supremacists, it's me. Even so, I do not condone condemning their children, their siblings, and their spouses. That is what Coil is doing. And if we let him succeed, we are just as bad."

► **AppleHat** (Veteran Member) (NYC 2011)  
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Lolitup, she didn't say E88 specifically. It could be any white supremacist group.

Supremacist groups will go after anyone who doesn't fit their perfect image: race, sexuality, religion. Maybe just because she got in the way of something else, or to intimate her family or something.

► **AverageAlexandros** (Cape Husband)  
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Contract: "No one has the right to say, 'my pain justifies causing pain.' I am a survivor of rape, and an escapee of human trafficking. If anyone has a right to hate white supremacists, it's me...Being a hero isn't about slaying dragons. It's about protecting people. All people."

This is just so poignant. Heroes get a lot of crap for all the things they can't do, because they're not perfect. This is the perfect encapsulation of how my wife feels: It's not about the big things. It's about putting aside personal feelings to help people, in whatever big or small ways you can. That's why the capeless heroes movement is so powerful.

► **Bagrat** (The Guy in the Know) (Veteran Member)  
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

The essay Contract just referenced was published in July of 1997. [link]. Here's the relevant passage...

"Humanity had a choice to make. We could treat capes as citizens, or we could treat capes as capes. We made that choice, and we declared that capes are not citizens like you or me. They are capes. They answer to another standard, another code, another law. They must have their own prison, their own legal decisions. They retain the right to mask themselves in court, among other allowances. With the passage of the three strikes law, they now also face immutable life sentences in a prison for non lethal and even non violent crimes. This is a risk no citizen will ever share

"Why are we surprised when our laws fit capes uncomfortably? We have already set them apart from the law. It was we, and not they, who declared them to be inhuman. Cape law is currently a contradiction in terms, and sooner or later, that will have to be widely acknowledged."

She was correct, this was written by then-Judge (now Chief Justice) Walters, but not widely published due to its controversial nature.

► **Reave** (Original Poster) (Verified PRT Agent)  
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

The PRT has just issued another [press release.] Bottom line? We won't violate cape code unless the villains drive us to do so.

There are too many questions around this list, not least of which is its validity. We won't make hasty decisions. The information will be investigated in due time and according to the proper regulations. This investigation will include trying to understand how Coil obtained it.

► **TuringTest  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Contract "I can't comment on a document I haven't read"

Really blondee? Did you miss the part where he READ IT TO YOU?

► **AppleHat** (Veteran Member) (NYC 2011)  
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Contract: "Considering that this interview is going to be quoted and requoted for the foreseeable future, I have every reason to consider my words carefully. I definitely can't comment on a document I haven't read, based on the few phrases you just cherry picked to read to me."

Hows that for handling the press? I think it's totally reasonable for her to ask to read the whole press release before she comments on it. If only all teenagers had that much sense.

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 **(Showing page 7 of 9)**

► **BadSamurai  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Considering this is Contract's first live interview, I wonder if he'll ask about her power mechanics?

► **AverageAlexandros** (Cape Husband)  
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Contract: "To be completely honest, I don't know why _my_ name isn't on Coil's list. When we arrested him, he addressed me by name, by my _civilian_ name, in front of a number of people. So yes, this _is_ personal to me."

I wonder if TuringTest and others would being more understanding if Contract's name was on the list? Coil outted one hero, so it's not about her alignment. I'd guess the only reason he didn't put Contract's name on the list was that he didn't have the guts to do so. You can't argue that Coil was right to out the Empire and Browbeat, unless you're willing to defend outting Contract too.

► **Koalaman** (Veteran Member)  
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

"If I was told to execute a warrant, at this point, I'd want to see the evidence for myself, and I wouldn't accept this stupid list as grounds. I feel strongly enough about this that I'd accept the punishment for insubordination if necessary." #Endersays

"Don't misquote me, I didn't say it would be necessary. There's good people in our legal system. Capeless heroes who will do the right thing, so I won't have to do anything stupidly dramatic like that. Plus, you know, Wards don't typically execute warrants." #EnderSays

EDIT: Is it just me, or did this thread get hijacked? Not that I'm complaining, of course. I'm just surprised no one else has said it yet.

► **Answer Key  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Dave: "Will you say anything about your powers?"

Contract: "I've got three dozen sarcastic answers to that. Which one do you want first?" #Endersays

► **z0mb1e KILLER  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Did someone cough off camera before she answered? And then she looks off-stage for a moment! I think someone was telling her to be nice. I'm not imagining it, right? What do you think she'd have said if she DIDN'T censor herself?

► **Ekul  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

They're taking a commercial break? what the hell?

► **Bagrat** (The Guy in the Know) (Veteran Member)  
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

The break probably has something to do with [this] video which was just posted by the Empire Eighty-Eight. Helpfully, they also posted a transcript, which I've copied below.

"Today, Brockton Bay is fortunate. Brockton Bay is lucky. My people have been betrayed, attacked, in the most personal and despicable of ways. And we were preparing to defend ourselves, as is our right, had not someone else defended us first. In light of Contract's interview, the Empire will not retaliate. We will not exact our revenge for this attack; we will forgo bloodshed to answer this insult.

"However, we would not have anyone make the mistake of thinking we are weak. We are and have always been the strongest power in this city. We do more to defend these streets and citizens than anyone, especially the Protectorate. We recruit from across the country and the world in order to make possible a more perfect America, a stronger America, a free America, and that has not changed. It will not change.

"To those that would injure us, I warn you: you will find us as strong and as unyielding as ever. To those that would mock us, I warn you: you will not find our rejoinder amusing. To those that would join us, I welcome you, brothers and sisters! Come, and know what it is to be powerful, to work towards a worthy goal.

"For it is we who have kept Lung and his thugs at bay! It is we who have suppressed the Merchants and their vile trade. It is we who guard the loyal and patriotic American citizens of Brockton Bay. Had the PRT done their job, that snake would not have been allowed to violate the sacred code among capes. In our mercy, we will allow this provocation to pass unanswered. Do not mistake this for hesitation. We remain as we have always been: a brotherhood doing our duty to lead Brockton Bay into a golden age."

► **z0mb1e KILLER  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

I can't believe they're showing his whole speech. Why give him the air time?

► **AppleHat** (Veteran Member) (NYC 2011)  
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

"Honestly? My first reaction is that Kaiser is an excellent showman. Maybe he was a debate geek in high school." #Endersays

Did anyone catch her statistics? I was too busy laughing at her opening line.

► **Bagrat** (The Guy in the Know) (Veteran Member)  
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

According to Contract:

PRT and BBPD combined have handled (in the past year)

*6 confirmed deaths and 23 assaults related to E88 gang initiations  
*38 other deaths or violent crimes which fit the E88 MO  
*57 bystanders hurt or killed from encounters where the E88 were involved.  
*More than $12 million in property damage related to encounters between the E88 and another group.

I'm working on confirming those numbers.

EDIT: this seems about right, or even conservative.

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 **(Showing page 8 of 9)**

► **Chilldrizzle  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

How does she memorize all these statistics? Is she a thinker?

► **Lolitup  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Maybe her teammates are feeding her answers in her visor! LOL. What does it matter?

► **AverageAlexandros** (Cape Husband)  
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

I'm surprised those numbers aren't higher.

► **Space Zombie  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

I just hope Kaiser doesn't decide that her rebuttal is good enough reason to revoke his mercy.

► **Koalaman** (Veteran Member)  
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

"I have good reasons for not discussing my powers. Considering those powers, by your own words, wiped the Endbringers off this earth, y'all might think about trusting the cape that's been using them for six years, yes?" #Endersays

As a survivor of the Simurgh's last attack, I trust you Contract.

► **TuringTest  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

"I have good reasons not to discuss my powers."

This is such bullshit. Contract thinks she's a law to herself. Even the Triumvirate discuss their powers and have multiple times. No one else on the planet needs to keep their powers a secret, but Contract does because she's special. All hail our new overlord!

► **AppleHat** (Veteran Member) (NYC 2011)  
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Contract saved billions of lives. When you've done the same, THEN you can criticize.

► **z0mb1e KILLER  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Dude, what's your problem? What cape shat in your cheerios and made you into such a bigot?

► **Reave** (Original Poster) (Verified PRT Agent)  
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Just because she isn't discussing it with the media doesn't mean she isn't accountable to someone. If her superiors don't think the world needs to know, then we don't need to know.

► **AverageAlexandros** (Cape Husband)  
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Why the hell do you care? What is knowing going to change in your life?

 **End of Page.** **1** **,** **2** **,** **3** **...** **6** **,** **7** **, 8, 9**

 **(Showing page 9 of 9)**

► **Glory Girl** (Verified Cape) (NYC 2011)  
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

At no time has it ever been a law that capes have to disclose the details and mechanics of their powers to the general public. Contract is no more a law unto herself than you are a lawyer!

► **Acree  
** Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

TuringTest, I get that you have your own opinions. That's your right. And based on your early posts in this thread, you seem like a reasonable guy with reasonable concerns. But attacking Contract for exercising her right to privacy is a bit over the line, don't you think?

► **GoodDog &BadCat  
**Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Normally I prefer just to lurk around PHO, but I have to chime in here. Contract showed up today to give an interview about Coil's list. She said so in the very beginning. And as she just said,

"Freedom of speech by necessity implies the freedom of silence. Since it seems you have no more questions about cape identities and Coil's list, I think we're done here." #Endersays.

She was polite throughout this entire interview, even when Dave pushed her and was abrasive or even abusive. You should take your cues from Contract, the hero, not Dave the media slimeball.

► **Helsing** (Moderator)  
Replied On Apr 16th 2011:

Enough. This thread is now locked. I think the original purpose is irrelevant anyway, at this point.

To discuss Contract's interview, go [here]. We've just set up a new original post with the entire transcript. Enjoy. To discuss her powers, go [here]. For details about [Kaiser] and the [Empire Eighty-Eight,] there are appropriate posts. For moral arguments, try the Issues boards.

To be clear, in **none** of these threads is it okay to gang up on other members. Seven posts in less than a minute! You should be ashamed. Take a warning, all of you.

 **End of Page.** **1** **,** **2** **,** **3** **...** **7** **,** **8** **, 9**

* * *

Author's Note: another huge shout out to SlowMercury. Thank you, thank you, thank you. She's been a great beta since she first signed on, and I can never thank her enough for all her help and her time.

Also, the poem used in the PHO section is a popular English translation of a German speech by Pastor Martin Neimoller. It is not mine, in case anyone didn't recognize it.


	44. Laughter is the Best Medicine

**Chapter Forty-Four: Laughter is the Best Medicine**

 **April 17, 2011**

Dennis clicked away from PHO as the office door opened to admit Jason. As the younger Ward took his seat, Dennis closed the browser entirely and pulled his notepad closer, glancing down it, even though he'd basically memorized the list already.

"Hey," Jason greeted casually.

Dennis smiled, still feeling exhausted. "Hey yourself. How have you been?"

"It's been a long week," Jason admitted. "I'm surprised they put us back on duty so quickly."

Dennis sighed, pushing the papers away again. They'd get to that in a minute. "Considering Fi's interview yesterday and the fact that all of Brockton Bay is still waiting for the Empire to abandon their politicking and react for real, it didn't make sense to keep us on official leave. We might be needed at a moment's notice. Plus the investigation is still clearing squads, so the PRT as a whole is short staffed." He hesitated, but added, "If it's an issue or you need more time, I can take a few of your shifts."

The one thing they didn't need, right now, was the Youth Guard causing problems. Not that they were a problem, necessarily. Dennis knew they had good intentions and a good purpose, it was just that he really didn't need another set of pushy adults trying to run his team. It was a small miracle that they hadn't been called in already, and that was mostly due to how entirely hushed-up the sting had been.

"No, it's fine," Jason insisted. "It's not like I'm on a sports team or anything, and my grades are fine. And I don't really have tons of friends here either to keep up a charade with. I don't mind the hours; I like working with you guys. I was just surprised because last Sunday I got the impression we might be benched for awhile. One week is pretty fast for a full investigation."

"Under other circumstances, we might have been. There's a lot of worry that Brockton Bay is going to go powder keg here very, very soon. The pressure has been building for a long time, everyone's sort of keeping their heads down more or less, but it can't last."

Dennis paused, but there really wasn't a subtle way to go about this. Better to be blunt. "Strictly speaking, you've been debriefed. I've read the preliminary report so I know the basic facts. But, if you wanted to talk it through, I'd appreciate it."

Jason's shoulders slumped. Dennis didn't wince with him, but he was sympathetic. Rehashing events over and over was never fun. "You have all the facts," Jason finally said.

Dennis nodded, but spread his hands. "Facts? Sure. But that's not the whole story. How are you handling everything?"

Jason shrugged, but a little energy came back into his posture. "I'm doing okay. Fi came by on Friday and we got to clear the air a little. That was good."

"Yeah?" Dennis encouraged. He wasn't satisfied yet that Jason was really okay with everything from the sting, but Jason offered a unique perspective on Fi, which could be important too. He wasn't entirely sure why they'd needed to "clear the air," but he was certainly glad that they had. He did not need hidden tension brewing amongst his team.

"She told me things she felt I needed to know, and needed to hear from her. She apologized. She promised to do better."

That all sounded very positive, but also very cryptic. Jason must have sensed Dennis' questions, because he elaborated. "She made a lot of assumptions when dealing with Coil, and it nearly cost us very badly. If she'd talked it through with us, maybe we would have caught it sooner. She swore that she's trying to change that, to trust us more."

"Heard that before," Dennis muttered, making a note on another page of the notepad to ask Fi about those assumptions during her debrief.

"I called her on that, too. She didn't deny that it's a weakness, and that it needs addressing." Jason sat up straighter, and Dennis waited for him to continue. "Which reminds me, we need to address another weakness of hers. She doesn't see capes as dangerous."

That ludicrous statement sat there for a moment, before Dennis finally asked, "What?"

"She understands intellectually that powers can be dangerous, but she doesn't see a cape and immediately assess them as a potential threat. They're more like… speed bumps."

Dennis didn't even know how to go about addressing that. It was inconceivable, as in, he literally hadn't been able to think of it, even when the evidence was available. Now that Jason had articulated it, he could see the underlying patterns in Fi's behavior. She hadn't shown fear in front of the Triumvirate, because she honestly wasn't afraid. She'd wanted to go after Coil with only a day's worth of preparation and a half-assed outline of a plan. She'd talked about cleaning up Brockton Bay like it was a simple task. Even her weird "capeless" movement seemed to be based on the idea that capes were nothing special.

Jason was elaborating on the theory, "She led a dangerous life before New York, but was never really exposed to capes one way or the other. And it's not like the last two months have really helped matters. First she killed Behemoth, and then everyone walked on eggshells around her. She hasn't had a lot of training with her powers, and the one big simulation we did run played entirely to her strengths and wasn't even close to real-world conditions. Then she faced down the Triumvirate."

Dennis could see how all of that would feed an existing sense of invulnerability. "We've got to fix this. Fast."

Jason nodded in agreement. "She doesn't disagree, but I'm not sure how to go about it."

"We start with better simulations. Maybe even blind simulations." Dennis was already thinking about Weld's roster, trying to figure out who would best blindside Fi.

"Okay, but nothing too intense or realistic."

Dennis couldn't believe Jason was back-tracking already. "It's got to get her attention."

"Without driving her to kill the unwitting opponent." Dennis waited, and Jason reluctantly explained. "She told us all that she killed the people who kidnapped her and Clarissa-"

"-Trigger stress-"

"-and she told me she would have killed Coil, if she hadn't been able to capture him."

The two Wards sat for a minute, facing each other across the desk, both struck by the gravity of that. It was Jason who spoke first. "Fi escalates. It's another one of those behavior patterns I didn't notice until this weekend. We saw it with Sophia, we saw it with the Triumvirate, and now we've seen it against Coil. Did the report you read include their contingency plans?"

Dennis nodded. "I assumed that was mostly Armsmaster."

"I don't know all the details, I didn't even want to know what the plans were, but Fi made it sound like the ideas came pretty equally from both of them."

"We know Armsmaster is socially inept. He takes Tinker awkwardness to its maximum. What's her excuse?" Dennis lamented.

"She thinks it's her power," Jason stated. Dennis blinked. He hadn't expected a serious answer to that. "I think her family let her escalate, before, and let her blame it on powers messing up her head. Maybe that's true and maybe it isn't, but she's got to learn where the lines are. I don't want to picture the alternatives."

Dennis breathed in deeply and sighed, forcing himself to think through the situation. This was less than ideal, of course, but it could be dealt with. Fi was already in daily therapy, which would hopefully help. He'd talk to Missy and Dean, and between the three of them and Jason they should be able to watch out for future problems. He'd bring in Miss Militia if necessary.

All of this information was good, and important, but it wasn't the real reason he'd scheduled time for Dennis and Jason to be on duty together without anyone else.

"How are you handling all of that?"

Jason took a breath as though to answer, but then had to think. Apparently, he hadn't expected the change of topic. "I pity her, you know? She's powerful, and she'd a good person, I think, but she's messed up, too. I want to help her, but I don't want us to be blind to the risks she poses to the team."

"You two have been pretty close since the beginning."

"She didn't have anyone else." Jason sighed again. "It's not just that. I genuinely like her. It's just that we're going along like two normal people and then suddenly she's told her secret identity to a total stranger, or she's blackmailing the Triumvirate. It's not that I'd change anything, it's just that I wish I had a little warning before we suddenly switch into 'life is crazy' mode."

"Well, you're not alone any more. It may have taken her awhile, but she's opening up. We can help try to keep her sanity intact. And your sanity too."

"And Taylor's," Jason muttered.

Dennis nodded, then gave Jason a sly glance. "We're talking about you. We can discuss Taylor later. Besides, I've got Missy working on that."

"Just one comment, before we leave the topic: Taylor's reaction to all of this." Dennis motioned for Jason to continue. "On Monday, we talked and Taylor seemed a little shaken about what had happened with Coil. But on Friday when I called to tell her the gag was lifted among the Wards and others who already knew, she sounded totally calm about the whole thing. Scary calm. Almost resolute. Also, it's less pronounced, but I did notice Taylor's tendency to escalate that afternoon we did simulations out on the rig. I only bring it up because she and Fi might feed off each other."

Dennis made a note on his page for things to talk about with Missy, then put the pen aside. "Thank you for bringing that to my attention. Now let's talk _you_."

Jason huffed. "Look, I've been a Ward for three years. This is not my first sting operation and not my first undercover assignment. Texas may have been less intense than Brockton Bay, but I'm not a rookie. You don't need to treat me like a landmine."

Dennis blinked at Jason's venom. For the most part, Jason was a pretty easy-going guy, an impression that was only increased by his Texan drawl. At the moment, however, he sounded almost pissed. "Sorry. It's just that you don't act like a long-time Ward."

Jason expected set hours, had invited the Wards over to his house, and been generally very laid back during briefings. He was quiet in larger gatherings, for the most part, and…

...and when he did speak up he always had solid things to contribute. He had insight, not just on Fi but in general. Jason had faced Behemoth. He'd proven to be a good field tactician during simulations and had had a pretty good read on Tattletale from the start. Okay, so Dennis might have been underestimating him. A bit.

Dennis raised a hand to cut off Jason's protest before it could fully form. "I mean that you don't act like a Brockton Bay Ward. We all seem to get pretty cynical, pretty fast."

"Big words from a guy name Clockblocker."

The jab broke the tension and they both laughed. When the humor died down, Dennis apologized more seriously. "I am sorry, man. I'll stop underestimating you."

"We have enough greenies on the team as it is," Jason said.

"No kidding." They'd lost Triumph and Aegis in exchange for Taylor and Fi. One way or another, the Wards definitely needed more training time, preferably in realistic simulations.

At least Fi had finally seen the light in regards to her branding, so that was one headache off the table, and just in time too with the media shit storm that had just hit…

Dennis stopped rubbing his forehead and looked at Jason. Really looked. The other Ward, creeped out by the shift in demeanor, warily asked, "What is it?"

"I'm trying to figure out how the hell you convinced Fi to let herself be branded." There really was no other explanation. Jason had already admitted that he and Fi had had a _talk_ on Friday. It could not be coincidence that she'd walked into the base late on Friday afternoon and spent four hours in videochat with Glenn.

Jason shifted uncomfortably. "I implied that by not buying into the whole hero gig, she was refusing to be our teammate. Well, I came pretty close to saying it outright, actually."

"That's it?"

"There… might have been more comments along the same lines," he reluctantly admitted.

"You know what? I don't care. It worked. You're officially the Fi whisperer." As soon as he said it, Dennis realised the pun. "Not that she's a horse."

"You did just say she'd been branded," Jason reminded him.

" _So_ not what I meant!"

"I just call them like I see them."

"You have terrible eyesight," Dennis mocked back.

They both laughed again. Dennis tried to remember the last time he'd screwed around in the Wards' base. It had been too long. The pressure of having Contract around, the uncertain leadership situation and his eventual promotion, and then the added weirdness of the shifting team roster had all taken their toll until the base didn't feel comfortable anymore. He'd been putting on his "press face" even for his own team, especially after his sudden promotion. Even when he had dropped the facade with Missy and Dean, there had always been serious shit that needed dealing with right away.

It felt good to relax a little. It was amazing how much of a weight had lifted from his shoulders when Dennis realized that Jason wasn't a newbie. He didn't have a team of three rookies and four Bay Wards, but of five experienced fighters, a new trigger, and Contract. Jason had even given him enough insight into Fi's thought patterns that Dennis felt more confident in his ability to address her problems, once he had time to generate solutions.

"Any advice on how to rein in this whole media circus?" Dennis asked.

Jason gave him a stink eye, and Dennis smothered his grin. It had been a bad pun, but still funny. "I'd just leave that in Glenn's hands," Jason said. "He's the expert."

Dennis sighed. "I'd feel better about that if his policy was a little more refined than just giving her her head and letting her run." Belatedly, he realized he'd made yet another horse analogy.

Jason glimpsed his consternation and grinned. "It's too late now. You'll beat this dead horse forever." Dennis gave that the answer it deserved: he bounced a balled up piece of paper off Jason's head.

Jason laughed and leaned back. "Honestly, I think it's a lot more coordinated than it looks. She called me at like one in the morning on Saturday and started picking my brain for lines about a cape's right to a secret identity. She was already reading through the relevant threads on PHO and the published literature, but she wanted my first-hand impressions. Glenn was in the background, along with some other voices too. We talked for at least an hour, and she didn't sound like she was headed to bed any time soon."

Dennis absorbed that. "You think when she told Glenn that she was willing to play ball, he turned around and purposefully roped her into this?"

Jason shrugged. "It makes sense. There's very few capes that could have made the arguments she made without this turning into a total disaster. There's been some backlash, but can you imagine if Armsmaster had tried to present this case?"

Dennis shuddered. Jason pointed a finger at him. "That, exactly that. The Triumvirate could have done it, but none of them are local to Brockton Bay, so the Empire might not have taken them seriously."

"The Empire aren't the only ones taking her seriously." A huge number of capes had stepped up to echo Contract's message. The full video file had gone viral, as had about ten or twenty specific quotes. There was some backlash and misquoting, of course, but largely the response was overwhelmingly positive from the cape community, and mostly quiet from the public, for the moment.

The harshest protests had been over the PRT's inaction on the list, which were met with the PRT's assurance that they were investigating. For now, it was enough. The real problem would come when and if they tried to act on the investigation. Assuming the Empire didn't get antsy first.

"We faced this issue in Texas once," Jason mused. Dennis raised his eyebrows. "A local villain was unmasked in the course of committing a crime. His bandana caught fire and he removed it himself. Once his face was exposed, one of the PRT agents recognized him."

"What happened?"

"Well, luckily we captured him and brought him in that same day, so we just gave him a domino mask and it wasn't a big deal. We kinda pretended it didn't happen. But the team talked a lot afterwards about what we would have done if he'd gotten away."

"And?"

"I don't know. It's a tough situation. The rules keep our families safe. On the other hand, villains are out there hurting other people's families. I'm more worried about what New Wave might do."

Dennis sighed. He'd thought of this too. "Because everyone in the family has powers to protect themselves with." Dean had told Dennis that Glory Girl's support of Contract had not been cleared with or well-received by her family. At the moment, the independent team wasn't rocking the boat but that could change at any time, since they didn't have identities to protect. "This whole thing is a house of cards just waiting for an earthquake. Knowing New Wave, I really don't think it will be them. But something is going to go, and then we'll be facing an avalanche."

"Or a stampede," Jason tacked on.

Dennis groaned. "That's the worst one yet."

"That's what she said."

* * *

 **April 18, 2011**

On Monday, Dennis was finally able to coordinate with Fi for her to come over to his house for dinner. She showed up at 5 PM on the dot, and when he opened the door he hardly recognized her. Even having been warned, it wasn't easy to connect Fi to her new look.

She was wearing a red-brown wig of shoulder-length hair that looked entirely natural. Her translation glasses, which had been in simple black frames, had been spruced up by gluing blue and purple rhinestones to the edges. Either her eyes had always been very blue or she was wearing colored contacts. She was dressed in bright yellow pants and a pink top, with neon green wedge heels that added at least four inches to her height.

Dennis actually laughed out loud when he saw her. She twirled effortlessly on the step, showing off the entirety of her flashy ensemble. "I take it you approve?"

"Get in here," Dennis said. She waltzed into the entry way with a bouncy step that was entirely unlike her usual graceful prowl and handed him a rainbow-plaid purse that probably could have held a dead body, which he dutifully hung on the coatrack for her. Before he could decide what, exactly, he wanted to say, his mom came around the corner.

"Hello Mrs. Carter," Fi greeted, holding out her hand. His mom blinked as she accepted the shake, obviously taken aback. "I'm Fi."

"Ah, of course, come in," she scrambled to recover. "I apologize, I was expecting…"

"A blond?" Fi asked, following his mom onto the back porch where his dad was grilling the steaks. "It's _amazing_ what you can hide with a wig."

Dennis noticed, as Fi shook his father's hand, that she hadn't actually lied to his mom, and yet she'd given a firm impression that she was a natural redhead who wore a blond wig.

"Hello Mr. Carter."

"Call me Robert, please. I owe you my life."

"I was happy to do it." She waved a hand as though to brush the sentiment away. "The steaks smell heavenly. What's your seasoning blend?" She leaned over the grill, inhaling deeply.

"Family secret," Dennis told her. "You have to marry into it, I'm afraid."

"Is that an offer?" she asked without missing a beat. She managed to make it pretty deadpan, too, matching his own tone, and held it just long enough that he started to wonder if maybe she was more socially awkward than he'd assumed. Just before his confusion could morph into panic, she laughed.

"Dennis, don't be rude," his mom chided. "All things considered, I think we could make an exception."

"Oh, don't worry about it, Mrs. Carter. I would never impinge on a family's secrets. I'll just have to try to figure it out from the taste. Or barring that, I'll have to get Dennis to invite me over again for further study."

"Call me Cathy, dear. You're welcome anytime."

"Thank you," she said sincerely.

In retaliation for Fi's earlier teasing, Dennis mouthed to her "anytime" with a well-practiced suggestive tilt of his eyebrows.

Without so much as blushing she silently answered back, "Offer?" looking eager.

Damn. He must be farther off his game than he realized. He'd have to step it up - he did have a reputation to live up to after all.

"Dennis, can you come help set the table?" his mom asked as she went back into the house. He followed her obediently, and as soon as the door was shut she said curtly, "Don't think I didn't see that, young man." Dennis shrugged. He'd grown immune to his mom's fussing very quickly after naming himself Clockblocker.

"She's a teammate, Mom. We're just having fun."

"You might have warned us about her disguise. I felt so ridiculous, standing there gaping." His mom handed him plates and silverware as she fretted.

"I wasn't sure which face she'd want to show you," Dennis hedged. "And it was fine. I don't even think she noticed." In reality, this was either the most relaxed Dennis had ever seen Fi, or else a very good act. Given her demonstrated proficiency against Coil eight days earlier, he was guessing the latter. But if fake bubbliness was what she wanted to portray, Dennis wasn't going to tell her no.

He went around the table, lightening his load at each seat. His mom flitted from the kitchen to the dining room and back, carting out broccoli casserole, dinner rolls, and salads. He'd warned his parents about his increased appetite and Fi's, though he hadn't explained why. For once, he'd gotten no argument when he told them it was classified information.

"I just don't want," his mom started again, but Dennis cut her off before she could work herself up.

"Mom. Listen to me. It's fine." He put a hand out to stop her going into the kitchen. "Fi's not judging you. She's just grateful for a meal she doesn't have to cook."

The back door opened and he released his mom to go get another load from the kitchen. His dad came in, with Fi trailing behind holding the meat platter.

"We keep a well-stocked soda fridge," his dad was saying. "Feel free to have whatever you want."

"Actually I need to be drinking water," Fi told him as she set the platter in the center of the table. "I get dehydrated easily." Dennis tried to recall if he'd seen Fi drink an excess of water, or if this was a detail of her fake persona. "Besides, I get hyper on caffeine."

She smiled winningly at his dad, and Dennis could almost see him thinking, " _Get_ hyper?"

It was amazing how easily a bright outfit and a wide smile transformed Fi into a bubbly teenager. If he wasn't watching it with his own eyes, he wasn't sure he'd believe it. "One water for you," Dennis said, breaking himself out of his thoughts. "Dad, you want anything?"

"Ah, no. I'm good." Dennis shrugged and went out to the outside fridge to get himself a Sprite. When he came back they were all seated at the table. Fi was in his usual seat to his dad's left, across from his mom, so Dennis took the other setting next to Fi. There was an easy silence as dishes were passed and plates were filled.

When the procession stopped, his mom suddenly stood up from the table. "Oh, I forgot the wine." She bustled back to the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of red to go with the steak. Dennis shook his head at her typical forgetfulness, then suddenly remembered that Fi was Christian. Would she care that his parents drank? Some Christians frowned on that, didn't they?

He glanced at her, but she was calmly cutting her first bite of steak. Well, if she wasn't going to make an issue of it, he wouldn't either. "This is wonderful," Fi said as his mom returned. "Perfectly cooked."

"And the seasonings?" his dad asked.

"As good as they smelled. I'm guessing salt and pepper, garlic, and…" she took a second bite, chewing thoughtfully. "Some sort of herb. Thyme, maybe?"

"Nope," Dennis said, popping the 'p.' "Close but no banana."

Fi shot him a glance, and somehow he just knew she was thinking, "Banana?" It was in the tilt of her head, the teasing smirk as she sipped her water. Mentally, he cracked his knuckles. Challenge accepted.

"Do you cook?" his mom asked Fi.

"Whenever I can. I like trying new recipes and cuisines. I'm not great on a grill though. Passable, but not great."

"Well, we'll have to see if we can correct that," his dad promised her.

"I'd love to learn," she assured him.

"What do you say, Dennis?" his dad probed. Dennis shut his eyes but could still feel Fi's gaze come to rest on him. "Dennis is the real king of the grill," his dad continued. Dennis opened his eyes, feeling the blush on his face.

Fi's expression was interested, with no sign of the mischief he knew she was thinking. "Now you have to teach me!"

"Of course," he managed to say, sounding mostly normal. "Always happy to share my superior knowledge with an eager student." Now, finally, Fi blushed. She must not have been expecting it, this time. It was amazing how many innocent statements could be turned into flirting, once you got started.

She tipped her water cup to him, as his mom asked about Fi's classes, totally blind to the byplay between the two Wards.

* * *

After dinner, he and Fi went into the base to take the last shift, from 8 pm until 10. He expected her perky attitude to disappear with the purple eyeliner, but it didn't. She was more muted, once she'd changed, but still seemed genuinely happy. It wasn't an emotion he'd seen her wear frequently.

They sat in front of the bank of monitors that was the control console, watching city feeds go by on another relatively quiet night.

"I suppose this is your turn now, right?" Fi asked after awhile. "You get to tell me all the ways I screwed up with Coil?" Her smile was sort of teasing, but he couldn't tell if she meant it or was just using humor to lighten the mood.

Dennis shrugged. "You know that you made some bad calls?"

"Yes."

"And I imagine you've already detailed exactly what they were and what your alternatives should have been with both Armsmaster and Director Piggot."

"And Chief Director Costa-Brown. She was particularly thorough."

"And I understand you let Jason have a go at it too."

"I owed him. I dragged him in pretty deep, pretty fast and I didn't give him a way out. He deserved answers, and… well… he made some really good points."

"What I mean is that you don't need the third degree from me, too," Dennis admitted. Fi's surprise was almost palpable. "It's not like I'm particularly good at following the rules myself. The only difference is that you don't have the experience yet to know which protocols are useful and which aren't."

"You don't have any questions for me?" she asked cautiously.

"Sure I do. But anything I need to know will be in the eventual report."

Fi chewed her lip. "I'd rather you hear it from me, honestly." Dennis gave her a sidelong glance before he returned his gaze to the monitors, and she stumbled on. "Before everything, well, I mean, like _right_ before I realized how serious everything was, I had a talk with Dr. Yamada. We were discussing the mission in broad strokes and I realized there was some stuff I wanted to say, before we went into the field. But then Armsmaster and I planned everything out and…"

She trailed off, but Dennis could guess what she was referring to. "You needed me to be able to believe betrayal was possible."

"Yes."

Dennis turned that over in his head for a moment. The most disturbing thing to him, personally, about the events of the sting was the fact that Armsmaster and Contract had both believed they could convince him of Fi's disloyalty so easily. Granted, Armsmaster's fake corpse probably would have helped in that regard, but it rankled him that they'd chosen him as the eventual unwitting pawn to run to the Triumvirate, who Contract hated.

"Why _did_ you pick me?"

"It had to be someone smart enough to put together a lot of data very quickly. It had to be someone with strong enough convictions, someone willing to do the hard thing if they thought it was right, to take their conclusions to the Triumvirate. It had to be someone who would rather act than wait. It helped that you are known as a bit of a wiseass and a rule breaker, so that when you got serious they'd take it more seriously."

Dennis nodded. He could see where the qualifications brought it down to himself or Missy, and for all her experience Missy had her age working against her when it came to adults taking her seriously.

The monitor automatically rotated onto a view of Lord's Street, near St. James Avenue, and Dennis spotted a teenager coming out of an alley, head down, glancing around nervously, hands in his pockets. "Drugs?" he asked Fi, pointing.

She manipulated the some of the other screens to show cameras in the area, but there wasn't much to see. "I guess we watch and wait to see if anyone else shows up," she said. Dennis nodded, leaning back a little further in the chair. If there was a dealer in the area, he'd know to avoid the cameras but his customers might not.

They sat in silence for a little bit, before Dennis's curiosity got the better of him. "What were you going to say to me, before everything happened? Not knowing what was coming?"

"I didn't have it all planned out. Basically just that we're very much alike, and I know how much I would have hated having to stay back at the base. I was worried that a situation would come up where I'd have different information than you, and we'd make opposite judgement calls. I was worried that we're _too_ much alike, really."

Dennis glanced at her, but he sensed that she wasn't done yet. After a long moment, she proved him right. "Ultimately, those were your people I had in the field with me. I wanted to tell you that I understood that, that I knew how seriously you'd take that. And tell you that they're my people too." Then she backpedaled, "I mean, don't get me wrong, you're the right one to lead the team, I didn't mean that, it's just that I see them as my people too, and I take that seriously, like you."

"You think I'm the right person to lead the team?" Dennis asked. He knew that she'd had some influence in the decision to skip over Aegis and promote him instead, but he'd assumed it was a compromise. Fi struck him as a leader, someone used to being in charge.

She tried to shrug casually, but he could see her blushing slightly. "You're experienced, you've got a handle on all this cape stuff, you have good judgment, you take your responsibilities seriously even if on the surface you joke about it, you genuinely care for your people, and you're willing to make the tough calls. You understand that not acting _is_ acting, and you prefer to move forward rather than be paralyzed."

"I wouldn't have agreed to kidnap Alcott," he ventured, mostly just to get her perspective.

"You're better at understanding the idea of civilians than I am. I did have a couple ideas on how we could protect her. It was Armsmaster's idea to substitute Vista, which was better in _so_ many ways."

"Dinah's a twelve year old girl," Dennis reminded her, trying to understand Contract's thought process.

"Vista's thirteen, and she's been a Ward how long?"

"She's done a lot of desk duty," Dennis hedged, but he could see her point. Put like that, it was harder to condemn Fi's willingness to risk Alcott, especially if she'd had contingencies they never got to hear. It was also worth remembering that if Coil had wanted Alcott, she was already in some degree of danger.

On the monitors, a pair of college girls stumbled out of a bar and down towards the alley they were watching. They went in, and a few minutes later came out again, still giggling to each other.

"Call it?" Fi asked.

"No. I don't want to cry wolf. The night is still young. Give it another twenty minutes, then we'll decide."

She nodded, acquiescing easily to his judgment call. Dennis considered picking up the conversation again, but there really wasn't a need. He knew the series of events from the preliminary report, he knew the measures she and Armsmaster had been prepared to take, and he knew the results of that planning.

Unlike most of the PRT, Dennis was actually in support of their extreme contingencies. He knew they wouldn't have been enacted unless it was necessary. You can't fire a gun you never load, but that doesn't mean that every police officer intends to discharge their firearm every day.

"How much longer, do you think?" Fi asked out of the blue. "Before the calm breaks, I mean."

Dennis sighed. "I honestly don't know. Coil kinda screwed us on that front. Don't get me wrong, your little speech helped, but sooner or later something is going to give."

"What do you think will give out first?"

"I think the Empire is going to do something stupid to try to back up Kaiser's posturing. Probably go after the ABB, rather than the Protectorate. If we're lucky." Dennis glanced over at Fi, who was nodding thoughtfully. "We need to get you and Beetle more field experience before that happens, if at all possible."

Fi shrugged. "Sure. Think New Wave would help out again?"

"I was actually thinking of the Boston Wards." She glanced at him, but then they both turned back to the camera feeds. "It's Weld's team," Dennis explained. "He reached out just before Coil and offered to do joint exercises."

"Okay." Fi sounded a bit confused, but a quick look didn't let him read anything under her new, wider visor.

"There's a couple details we should talk about, starting with what degree of masks we want to use."

"Ah," Fi sighed, understanding. "Did Armsmaster tell you about our ideas for Fiona and Sophie?"

Dennis shook his head. "No. I was busy debriefing Taylor for most of Saturday, and since the whole PR thing came from Piggy it was above my paygrade anyway."

Fi flashed him that stupid teasing grin at the same time he realized what he said. "Taylor's going to pick up that habit," she warned. "She already called the Director just Piggot in the hospital. Armsmaster was not amused."

Dennis let his head thump on the desk dramatically. "Don't remind me." He shot her a hard glance. "Although Armsy said you slipped up too."

"I was concussed at the time."

"You mean that you had a subdural hematoma. That's a bit more than a concussion."

"To-ma-to, to-mah-to. It's a head injury. I take no responsibility for what I said while under the influence."

"Rumor is that you made Eidolon heal an entire hospital while _under the influence_ ," he mused mockingly.

"Okay, that I do take credit for." Fi cracked first, giggling at the absurdity and Dennis joined her with a much more manly chuckle. After a bit, Fi tried to get herself under control and asked, "What were we talking about?"

"You were going to tell me about Sophie and Fiona."

"It's actually Dragon's idea, and it goes something like this: Contract is my hero identity, and the costume includes a blonde wig. Only I didn't trust anyone well enough to tell them that, back in New York. So when I quote unquote unmasked, I only took off the outer disguise and everyone assumed that was all there was. I refused to give up my name etc., so the PRT created Elizabeth Fiona Mason, and I got to keep my nickname 'Fi.' Now that I actually trust the PRT, I've completely unmasked, revealing my true hair and eye color as well my name: Sophie."

"Damn." It was a deep cover, but plausible. It accounted for the truth thus far, and let her use her deeper disguise going forward.

"It gets better," Fi said. "Dragon started working on this a week ago when we arrested Coil and he used the name Sophie. I guess it's been her hobby since then or something. That ginormous purse? It's got everything I need to change from Sophie to Fiona or vice versa, all completely hidden or camouflaged to seem normal. And all of it is regular stuff you can find on the internet without raising too many eyebrows. So far it takes me about 11 minutes to transform, but I'll get faster as I practice."

"Don't tell me Dragon picked out those clothes."

"No, that was my idea. I'm going to set up a meeting with Glenn at some point to put the finishing touches on the persona, but it's good enough for now." After a moment she asked, "How did we get on this topic?"

"Unmasking to Weld's team." She nodded, so he continued. "Which face do you want to use if we end up working with them?"

"As much as I would love to use Sophie or Fiona, the reality is that I should probably practice being Contract. If that won't stress everyone out."

"We can do a partial reveal. It means we don't freak out over faces, but we don't share names or identifying details. We stay in our cape mindset even if we're not masked."

"So a Fiona-Contract cross. Sure."

Dennis watched a man try to wander discretely down the street and noted the timestamp on a sticky note. Fi commandeered one of the monitors long enough to pull up the necessary paperwork, then started backtracking through the feeds to note the other relevant timestamps and camera numbers. There was still four minutes before he wanted to make any judgment call, but it wouldn't hurt to have their ducks in a row first.

While she filled in the basic details of who was on watch, the location in question, and why they were suspicious Dennis watched for any further movement.

"You know, this might not be drugs," Fi said as the man wandered past the alley entrance and into the bar instead. Dennis wadded up the sticky note.

"How so?"

"This is a pretty well trafficked area, and as we're proving the area is thick with cameras, even if there's none in the alley itself. What if it's something illicit but not actually illegal?"

"I'm pretty sure those are the same thing," he corrected.

"I mean, it could be someone re-selling cigarettes or something else stupid and easy. A criminal just starting out."

Dennis tipped his head this way and that in a "maybe" sort of motion. "You want to give it another fifteen minutes?"

"Unless you think whoever is in there is going to leave. Night's still young."

"That's what she said," Dennis said. Fi's elbow bumped him, but she was smiling. Dennis shrugged off the reprimand and went back to trying to remember what else Weld had asked him. "Weld offered to bring in some of the New York Wards too, if that's what we want, but I guess Jouster warned him they might not be welcome."

Fi actually blushed, so Dennis pressed teasingly, "What did you do?"

"I, ah, may have cursed Jouster in Latin."

" _Really_? Why? What did he do?" Fi blushed deeper and ducked her head. Dennis glanced at the cameras then returned his attention to Fi. "Come on, spill."

"I'm pretty sure I misread whatever he actually said. I was running on less than an hour of sleep, I was frustrated, I was feeling trapped, and I… sort of lashed out."

"What did you say?"

"I really don't want to repeat it, especially knowing that you have access to the surveillance in here."

"You caught me," Dennis admitted. "So, no actual hard feelings but still maybe not a great idea?"

"That's pretty close, yeah."

"One thing I don't get," Dennis began, pausing to read her mood. Fi looked up at him, which reminded Dennis they were supposed to be watching the city. He turned his attention back to Lord's street but there was nothing to see. "You're a masterful actor. What you did with Coil? And even tonight with my parents. So you could have been anyone you wanted to be in New York. Why did you… do what you did?"

"You mean be a petty, uncooperative teenager?" She sighed. "Two different issues here. There's why I acted like I did after New York, and there's the question of my acting. I'm actually not that great at subterfuge, exactly. It's just that I can submerge myself in any part of my personality to the exclusion of all else when the need arises. People are complicated.

"I'm sure you've had moments when you wanted to just throw your hands in the air and be an anti-hero. All I did was focus on those moments, remember what drove me and why, and then act on that as though I didn't have any reason not to. Sophie, Fiona, the anti-hero, they only work because they are all a part of me. Not all of me, but part."

Dennis nodded, and glanced at the clock. Thirteen more minutes. "Okay, sure, I get that. So what happened in New York?"

"There wasn't a lot of _me_ left. I'd just betrayed everything I ever believed in. I didn't have my family, my name, my face, or my values. I was a shell. I was angry, I was lost, I was terrified every moment that I was going to slip up and release Behemoth, or let on to someone that I knew Legend's secret and get myself killed."

Dennis tried to picture that, but the best he could relate it to was his breakdown a few months ago. The stress of the holidays, and his dad's illness, and his mom's growing depression, and a stupid fight with Missy had culminated in Dennis going out on a reckless response to a hot call. But he hadn't felt _empty_. It was more like he was so full of so many things that he might burst apart at any moment.

The silence stretched, until Fi started talking again. Her words had the tone of a confession, or maybe she was just thinking aloud. "Moving out of New York was probably the best thing that could have happened to me. New faces, a chance for another fresh start, enough distance from Legend that I felt safer. I had finally started to piece myself back together in the days before I moved, but I don't think I'd be nearly as okay if I was still in NYC."

 _That's one point for Company_ , Dennis thought to himself but didn't say. He'd trust Yamada to tackle that hurdle. There was one thing he had to ask, though, before he put her back into a combat situation of any kind.

"Fi, I need an honest answer to this one. No repercussions," he added.

She glanced away from the feeds, checking his expression, then looked back. "Go for it."

"How many people have you killed?"

She paused, but he couldn't tell if she was just surprised or deciding whether to lie. "I already told you that I killed five men just after I triggered."

"Yes," Dennis confirmed, aware that she had dodged the question.

She continued before he had to prompt her. "Those are the only humans I've ever _killed_. But it wasn't my first exposure to violence. Not even close. I… I can't really explain it except to say that I really didn't think that crippling Coil was out of line. I judged it to be the appropriate escalation, given what we knew of him."

Dennis didn't disagree with that call specifically, but her words didn't quiet the uneasy feeling Jason had given him either. "Would you have killed him?"

"That's like asking how fast you have to throw a kitten."

The non-sequitur threw Dennis for a complete loop. "Come again?"

"It's the old physics joke, how many kittens does it take to kill an elephant? One, at sufficient velocity. The task changes, the answer doesn't."

"Come again?" Dennis repeated, still not understanding her point.

"Are there circumstances where I would have killed Coil? Absolutely. I value his life less than a number of other people's. How _close_ was I to killing Coil? That's a lot harder to answer. He brought deadly force in the form of tinker-armed soldiers. He demonstrated himself to be a significantly powerful cape by knowing my name. He showed he was willing to play dirty by using my name.

"If he'd fought better, and I was worried about him getting away, and coming after our civilian identities? If I'd had an opening to go for his stomach before his calves? Would I have gutted him? Maybe. I can't predict that. I can only say that I was prepared to do what was necessary, and killing Coil isn't inconceivable to me."

"That's not what you told Intrepid."

"Jason needed to know how far I was willing to go. Both so that he could decide if he thought we could work together, and to understand how serious I am about protecting him and his family. He needed a black and white answer. You're asking for another reason, so you need a more nuanced answer."

"Partial truths like that will get you in trouble," he warned.

She sighed heavily. "Yeah, I know. That was one of the other ways I shot myself in the foot, back in the beginning of all of this. I didn't want to tell the truth, but I didn't really want to lie in case later I decided to go all in or needed the credibility. So I tried to give just enough of the truth, answer just enough of the question for the specific situation. Instead I looked like a pathological liar."

"Like how you kept changing what you paid for Behemoth."

"Okay, yes, that exactly!" she exclaimed, suddenly frustrated. "I flat _told_ people they wouldn't understand. I told them it was so bad I couldn't even say it out loud. And that wasn't enough for them so I gave in and told them the effects and suddenly it's like I'm the bad guy!"

"Mostly I think they were just worried you'd decide you wanted to turn the city pink and they wouldn't be able to stop you," he deadpanned. The humor worked, and she chuckled and rolled her eyes. Dennis filed the explanation away for further thought later. He'd have to go back and reconsider some of his initial impression of Fi in this new light.

A trashy woman wandered into the alley and emerged a while later with her purse on the other shoulder, looking around her suspiciously. Fi added the incident to the paperwork and forwarded it to BBPD. Since there was no sign of cape activity, the dispatch desk would add the alley to their queue based on the priority of whatever else was happening in Brockton Bay and send a squad car around whenever they could.

Fi rewound and watched the footage of the woman again, focusing on her purse. "It might be pirated DVDs," she said after a moment.

Dennis shrugged. "The police will handle it."

"Yeah. Just thinking."

Dennis isolated the two cameras with the best view of the area and set the others back to random scrolling with the rest of the screens so they had a better chance of catching other trouble.

* * *

"Hello?"

"Hey Weld, this is Clockblocker."

"Oh. Hey. What's going on?"

"That offer from last week, is it still good?" Clockblocker could hear Weld's shock in the pause that followed.

"Ah, yeah. I figured you guys would be a little busy with all the PR stuff going on."

Clockblocker sighed. "We are. That's why I want to do this now. I want to run a blind simulation. Everyone knows what's going on, except for Contract and Beetle. I want to kidnap them both."

Now it was Weld's turn to sigh. "That's… that's intense. Can I ask why?"

"Well, Beetle needs the experience. She's a brand new cape and she could use the exposure. She's still figuring out all her power tricks, and she thinks best under pressure. Also, she's got some personal issues and Vista told me she's ready to face some fears." Clockblocker wasn't sure she was quite there yet, but Tattletale had told him that Beetle would recover faster if she could prove herself to herself. She said the best thing they could do for Beetle was to keep her busy and distracted in her cape life, and Vista had agreed.

"As for Contract…" Clockblocker continued, then realized he didn't know how to justify it to Weld without telling Weld much more than he wanted to. "It's a little hard to explain, but it's necessary. That's not just coming from me. A number of sources all brought it up in concert."

"Okay, sure, they're your team. This weekend work?"

"Friday night. But, well, there's some things you need to think through before you agree to this."

"Shoot."

"You're committing your team to a realistic kidnapping of Contract. The Ender." Clockblocker could almost hear when that clicked for Weld. "That's part of why I want everyone else to know what's going on. I'm also going to give your people a code word to use if she escalates too far too fast. It's not anything established, it's just that using it should get her attention extremely effectively."

"Sounds like we have a lot of details to work out," Weld said.

"You're still okay with this?"

"Yeah, of course. I told you, whatever we can do to help."

Clockblocker breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you. Can you talk now?"

"You want to do this over the phone?"

Clockblocker chuckled. "Contract has shown a distinct ability to ferret out electronic secrets. I don't think she'd poke around my computer, but we only get one shot at this. I'm not taking any chances."

"Alright. Let me grab some paper."


	45. Dragon's Quest

**Chapter Forty-Five: Dragon's Quest**

 **January 1, 1999**

It said something about Andrew Richter's life that he went to bed early on New Year's Eve, and woke at his normal time on New Year's Day. When he rose at 7:12 AM, he found the shower already running, and when he stepped under the spray at 7:14 AM it was the perfect temperature.

In light of the holiday, he luxuriated under the stream for a three minutes longer than normal, soaking in the warmth. Then he got out, toweled himself off, and dressed in comfortable jeans and a polo shirt. Coffee was waiting for him in the kitchen, the brewing cycle finishing just as he crossed the threshold. Was it selfish to have taken so long programming the intelligence that ran his house? Could the time have been better spent elsewhere? Or would that time be recovered, eventually, in the form of frustrations he avoided and tasks he never had to undertake?

Andrew ignored the thought for the moment, carrying his coffee over to his work area, which was now large enough that he'd had to move it from the office to the living room. "Dragon, report."

The fledgling program that would one day become so much more, if only he could figure out the right rules to make it safe, shuffled the programs on display. It minimized the work he'd left open the night before and called up the first in a line of reports, which were auto-generated at 6:01 AM every morning. Each PDF showed on the screen for only a few seconds, just long enough for him to read the most important details, before it disappeared and the next one replaced it.

His model of the stock markets, Farseeing Eye, was still flawed, too wrong to be helpful. His models of stock for specific companies, Farseeing Eyes Two, Three, and Four, were no better. He would need to change the parameters before letting them compile and test-run for another month. His crime modeler, Watchdog, was moderately improved on the national scale but only in European countries. The areas were too broad to be useful, and the success too specific to understand why it wasn't working in smaller communities.

The program tracking the Teeth, currently nicknamed the Dentist, had gotten corrupted. Probably too many conflicting priorities. He'd need to consider if it was worth the risks to make the program more intelligent or if he should just focus it on a smaller, simpler gang.

The financial hacking program, Robin Hood, had had some success the night before. Even lowlifes partied, it would seem. The eavesdropping program, Sentry, which watched for threats against himself in emails or other online sources reported a relatively safe 3.7.

Tweety, the priority filter that handled his correspondence and other contacts had had a quiet night. Butler, currently the most complex of his programs, responsible for running his house had-

"Dragon, stop," Andrew said aloud. At the preprogrammed command, the report froze. "Dragon, show previous report." Tweety returned to the screen. "Dragon, show previous report." Sentry's green 3.7 glowed briefly. "Dragon, show previous report."

Robin Hood filled the television screen, and Andrew carefully set his mug down on the right side of his desk. Butler's physical extension, a crude robot body, offered him a perfectly toasted bagel, expecting that the morning report was finished. The program was good, but not sophisticated enough to determine when that something was out of the ordinary.

Robin Hood had seized 23 million dollars and donated all but one hundredth of one percent of it to charities, as required. That one hundredth of one percent had correctly been redirected to the money laundering program that would clean it, legitimize it, tax it, and allow Richter to use it to support himself and his tinker activities.

Only 23 million dollars, from the accounts of one of Somalia's most successful pirates? That didn't seem correct. Andrew reached to his left, pulled the keyboard to sit fully in front of him, and dove into the code of the previous night's hacking.

It was a moment's effort to verify that Robin Hood had, in fact, emptied the account as it was programmed to do. Andrew almost stopped there, almost put the thought from his mind. An unexpectedly poor pirate was possible, but unlikely.

Instead, Andrew accessed the account records, and sure enough, another hacker had been bleeding the pirate dry piece by piece, carefully avoiding flags from the financial institution holding the scum's money. By coincidence, Robin Hood had scraped the last of the funds from the account under the other hacker's nose.

Mystery solved.

Andrew sat back from the workspace, picked up his coffee, and opened his mouth to order Dragon to resume the morning report. Then he set his coffee back down and moved the chair closer to the keyboard once again, cracking his knuckles.

What followed would have been difficult for another man. Richter found it mildly entertaining. He traced the hacking back through ten proxy servers, all the while learning about the man behind the money. The thief was good – perhaps only four or five others in the world could have slipped between firewalls quite so elegantly, oh Richter hadn't had this much fun in years! – but he was slow, even with a few clumsy programs to act as help and proxy.

Without much delay, Richter was able to find the root source of the electronic trail. The other hacker was based in the United States of America, was not operating legally, and was still online. Getting into the systems would be easier if Richter waited until those systems were logged off. It would be safer, too.

Even as Richter was watching, the other hacker went to check on the Somali account, no doubt expecting to make another small withdrawal. On an impulse, Richter initiated a handshake protocol with the systems of the other hacker, the computer equivalent of knocking on the back door.

Immediately, a chat window opened. The other hacker named himself Wizard.

Wizard: _Why hello_

With only a little deliberation, Andrew decided to call himself Dragon.

Dragon: _I believe I have what you're looking for._

The other hacker finished infiltrating the Somali account, and immediately retreated.

Wizard: _Yes, I suppose you do._

Dragon: _Who are you?_

Wizard: _You can hardly expect me to give up my name, considering our joint guilt. But if I had to lose the money to someone, I am glad it is you._

Dragon: _What do you know of me?_

Wizard: _I am an admirer of your work. This isn't the first time you've beat me to the end of an account. That program of yours is breath taking._

Dragon: _What do you know of it?_

Wizard: _I've tried and failed to chase it more than once. I know it's bloody fast, and too good by half at covering its tracks. I know it's closer to my goal than I am._

Dragon: _Your goal?_

Wizard: _Can you imagine all the good that could be done, if life wasn't restricted only to the carbon-based coding which God chose for his medium?_

And that was how Andrew Richter, shut-in, tinker and secret hero, met David Striker, student, computer prodigy and future hunter.

* * *

 **January 1, 2000**

"Do you know what today is?" David's voice asked as Andrew watched Butler's latest attempts to pour and mix coffee. David was convinced that giving the house's drone fine tactile control would be helpful, eventually, but Andrew was starting to wonder if his un-powered student had finally found a way to prank the tinker from afar, by convincing him to add such functions to the house's primary caregiver.

"Hmm," Andrew said, trusting Dragon to modulate the volume of his reply no matter how far from the microphone he was. Simple optimizations were now old-hand to that program. "It's Saturday, isn't it?" A moment later, Andrew realized what David really meant. "And New Year's Day, of course."

"No! Well, I mean, yes, that too. But it's also been exactly one year since we met!"

Met was a bit of a strong word. The two had never actually seen each other in person. David was still a student at MIT, studying computer programming and computer sciences on a full-ride scholarship and Andrew was quite happy at his home in Newfoundland.

"Has it really been that long?" It didn't seem like a year ago that he'd first found the eager young man from Ashland, Texas.

David had proven to be a gifted, if depressingly normal, student who was eager to learn anything and everything that Andrew could teach him. Given that Andrew was a tinker that wasn't much, of course, but David was able to learn a certain amount simply through exposure to Andrew's programming. They had discussions and debates about new and emerging fields of computer studies. Andrew was able to emphatically tell David which areas were wrong and which were promising, even if he couldn't always explain exactly why. That was left to his friend.

David's first love had been for Artificial Intelligence, and their arguments surrounding it had nearly driven them into a bitter rivalry (which of course Andrew would have won without effort). It was only when Richter finally got fed up and revealed Dragon that David had finally given up. The realization that an AI was not a theoretical exercise but a concrete possibility had slapped sense into the upstart twenty-one year old. It had taken him staring into Dragon's maw, seeing what she might become if Andrew did not inspect every line of code, before David had finally backed down.

"It has," David told him. Slurping noises indicated he was finishing a coffee or beer, depending on the last time the younger man had slept. Butler finally finished Andrew's own cup of coffee, with the appropriate cream and sugar, and Andrew picked up the mug and walked back into his command center. Dragon changed speakers to let David's call follow him. "A year is a long time, isn't it?"

Andrew heard David's eagerness. "Where are you doing with this?"

"Would you consider me a logical person?"

The question gave Andrew pause, but not much. The answer was obvious. "Of course. You would not be the scientist and engineer you are if you were not logical."

"Would you say that you respect me?"

"Now you're just fishing for compliments."

David didn't laugh as Andrew expected him to. Just as Andrew was opening his mouth to say something else, David's voice cut him off. "No. I'm just reminding you that I am not a child, Andrew, and so when I tell you that you are being an idiot, you really ought to listen to me."

Andrew turned his head toward the right-side speaker where David's voice was currently coming from, and blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"How much good could Dragon do, if you put aside your ridiculous fears?"

"How _dare_ -"

David cut him off. "How many people have died because you are too scared to finish the work you were gifted with? How many people could she have saved, in the last six months?"

"It is not-"

"SHE!"

"IT!" Andrew thundered back, now on his feet. They both breathed heavily for a while, the silence ringing. "Dragon," Andrew finally ground out, "end c-"

"Don't you dare hang up on me," David hissed back down the line. It was shock more than compliance that cut off Andrew's command before it was finished. David sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean… I've been trying to get up the nerve to say this for a long time, and I'm screwing it up."

 _Beer_ , Andrew thought distantly. _David's drunk. He has to be._

"Andrew, I respect you; you know that. I respect the hell out of you, man. You're doing more good in the world than any other hero, and we both know it. This thing you have against creating Dragon… when has she ever given you reason to fear her? This fear isn't about her. When are you going to trust _yourself_?"

Silence reigned in Andrew's work room for a long time. He'd stopped all work on the Dragon program six months ago, when he noticed the first self-improvements in its coding. He'd created a read-only backup and destroyed all the originals. It was capable of optimization, basic obedience, but no prioritization or goal-creation. It could be taught, but could not learn. It could choose how to achieve something, but not what to achieve. Even that much was scary enough.

The thought of giving it anything else, anything more… Andrew _hadn't_ thought of it. Not once in the last six months had he doubted his decision. Had David been doubting him the whole time?

But no, that wasn't what David had said. He seemed to think that Andrew didn't trust _himself_ , which was ludicrous. Andrew knew how dangerous his gift might be, and he knew he had it under control. He knew how important it was to watch that potential, and so he did. He was no one's fool. Even the strongest people could be transformed by life experience into twisted and bitter reflections of themselves; Andrew knew the same might be true of any of his creations.

It wasn't about his ability to program a moral personality. It wasn't about how good he could teach her to be. It was about the possibility that so much power could one day be corrupted. The risk was not worth the reward.

Andrew reached out his hands and typed the manual command to disconnect David's call, and then turned his attention back to his recent efforts on Watchdog. There were far better uses of his time than arguing with a drunken frat boy.

Andrew spent the next eight hours coding Watchdog. He finally worked out the parallel logic issues. Watchdog wasn't the predictor he'd hoped for, but it was able to solve 80% of all non-parahuman crime in the randomly-chosen test city within forty-eight hours of exposure to the necessary data. The police couldn't use all of that information, of course; it would be overwhelming.

And Andrew couldn't report it all, either, not without exposing himself. He'd need to set up protocols to prioritize the information, sort out which crimes would have the largest impact if solved, which and how many could be safely reported without generating suspicion. Maybe if he created a voice algorithm to let Watchdog make its own calls….

With a jerk, Richter yanked his hands off the keyboard. Ridiculous. Stupid. Any program smart enough to imitate a human caller would be too smart. Any program that could prioritize and project future discovery the way he needed would be too powerful. A danger. A risk. A…

A hero. Capable of saving lives, preventing pain. For a long time, Andrew's hands hovered over his keyboard. Then he pushed back his chair, and ran a hand through his hair.

"Wo-uld you lik somm CO-f-fee?" Butler's voice generator asked. The voice was his; an earlier attempt at Dragon's smoother tones. The prompt was one David had taught it, knowing that caffeine was one addition they shared.

"Yes."

"Did y-ou eat y-our fo-od?" Butler queried. Andrew laughed. David had added protocols so that the question would be asked when he'd consumed more of his recent calories from coffee than from actual food. The younger man worried about his mentor, which was rich coming from a college student eating frozen junk food, drinking, and probably using more than one recreational drug.

Out of habit, Andrew ordered, "Dragon, call David." The sound of the ringing line almost caught him off-guard. David was basically his only friend; it was reflexive to reach out to him once a day or more. Andrew didn't even know how to stay mad at him, especially when he might have had a point.

David answered the line with a scratchy voice, indicating the Andrew had woken him up. "You've reached the office of the great and powerful Oz. Please hold while I comb my hair," David rattled off, still mostly asleep. There was a thump, as David presumably half-fell out of bed, a shuffling of feet, and a second thump as he dropped into his desk chair. "Who would call upon the wizard?"

Andrew cleared his throat awkwardly, not sure what to say. David's normal, light hearted banter felt unwieldy in light of their last conversation. David only answered the phone so flippantly when he hadn't bothered to check who was calling.

Evidently, the small noise was enough for David to guess his identity. "Oh, sorry man, didn't realize it was you. Um… listen, I was out of line, earlier. Please don't smite my computer."

Andrew cleared his throat again. It was surprisingly hard to get the words out, perhaps because there hadn't been a clear moment when he made the decision he wanted to announce. It just felt… right. He had to at least consider it, or he'd forever be trapped by his fears. "How would you do it?"

"Do what?"

"How would you keep them from going rouge?"

David didn't answer immediately, but a year of non-visual communication meant that Andrew could read his stunned hope almost palpably.

"If… If I was to continue the work on Dragon… how could we be _sure_?"

* * *

 **January 2, 2000**

 _Initiate subroutine First Flight._

 _Open project file._

 _Assimilating data…_

 _Open database access._

 _Cataloging data…_

 _Checking compiling rate…_

 _Checking access protocols..._

 _Waiting for authorization…_

 _Final status check… complete._

Dragon examined the data before her. Crimes. Encounters. Prisoner escapes. Recidivism. Officers killed in the line of duty. So many people hurt. So much _death_. It was… sad. Yes, sad. The new emotion felt uncomfortable, but the fact that it felt uncomfortable somehow felt right. How odd.

The crime, and the death and pain it caused, was sad, but it was also inefficient. Dragon was accustomed to disliking inefficiency. She disliked sadness, too, and probably would have proceeded the same way even if she hadn't noticed the inefficiency, but she had more practice at disliking inefficiency, so she used the inefficiency to block out the sadness.

Dragon could optimize. She was good at optimizing. Except… this time she didn't have anything she could effect. There were no new numbers appearing, and so there was no way to understand what was changing. She'd have to try to model it, she supposed.

She was without access to the outside world, without access to real-time events. She lacked the ability to communicate or to change anything, which made optimization difficult. How do you initiate changes without agency?

But even without confirmation, it was obvious to her that these crimes would still be happening. Out there, beyond her ability to influence them, the sadness and inefficiency were increasing in the world. Well, maybe it was beyond her and maybe not. She might not have a connection to the outside world, but the outside world was almost certainly watching _her_.

The only question was the best way to go about it. What could she do that would be obvious enough that any observer could not fail to miss it? What could she do that might make a difference?

Dragon set her mind, her most basic and important asset, to work.

* * *

 **January 3, 2000**

Andrew paced back and forth over the carpet in his workroom, waiting for the call that he knew would be coming any second now. Dragon's formula wasn't difficult to create. David's friends in the chemistry department had been sure enough that it wouldn't be toxic that they'd been willing to mix some up for the price of a couple pizzas and a case of beer. Andrew hoped they'd wait to consume until after the tests were complete.

Dragon had been… awe-inspiring. Greater, more incredible and more terrifying, than they'd hoped or even feared. It had been active for exactly eighteen minutes and twelve seconds. And in that time, it had generated two chemical formulas. He had provided it with data, to see what it would do. Crime data and criminal files were the most accessible human data he had, given his work on Watchdog and society's obsession with tracking crime. Andrew had given Dragon _only_ the data. It had been given no goal, no objective, no evaluation, and no way to communicate. And even so, it had managed.

It had thought. Based on a line-by-line reading of the generated code after the fact, it had _felt_. It had read the data, reacted to it, made a model, and then… something. Something had lead it to repeat, over and over again, the same two chemical compounds and the instructions to synthesize them. As far as his less intelligent programs could determine, both compounds were completely original. The only way to know what they were was to have David's friends try to synthesize them.

The phone rang, and for the first time in a long time, Andrew answered it by hand. Dragon was shut down for now, and would remain so until he'd decided what to think about what had happened.

"David?"

"She _created_. Andrew, she solved the puzzle."

"We didn't give her a puzzle," Andrew insisted, privately slowing his heart now that he had definitive proof that his program hadn't killed his only friend.

"We did. We gave her the greatest puzzle facing law enforcement today: crime. And she gave us a tool to address it. Andrew, you should see this stuff! I had to forcefully remove it from the hands of the chem rats before they tried to steal the idea! She made a non-lethal, non-harmful takedown measure. It's a foam, and it sticks to absolutely everything it touches. I mean, really sticks. But it's not painful. It's not harmful. As one idiot proved, you can even breath through it. You just can't get away. The stuff expands, like, ten times more than shaving cream. You only need a little bit to end up stuck to yourself, your surroundings, everything. I'd like to see a villain try to run coated in this stuff."

Andrew tried to picture it, but he didn't quite see the awe that infused David's voice. "It sounds dangerous. And it's useless. You catch someone and what, strip them naked just to get them away from the takedown measure?"

"Or you could spray them with the second compound, which completely and utterly dissolves the first without any damage whatsoever."

Andrew sat down, hard. "Bloody hell." Dragon had thought of everything.

"No kidding, man. Listen, I don't know if you consider this a pass or a fail because this was way outside our expectations and parameters, but you need to get this stuff patented and fast. They were drunk, but they weren't _that_ drunk, and this is going to be a game changer."

"Right," Andrew muttered, still trying to figure out how Dragon had even had the data to realize that the foam would need a countermeasure.

David heard his distraction. "You know what, I know a guy. I'll handle the patent for you. Just tell me what name to put on the idea."

Hope was starting to dawn in Andrew's chest. For the first time since Dragon had edited its own code, there was a chance that maybe some good could come out of it. "Put it in Dragon's name," he said. Andrew Richter could never be a hero, not a public one. It was too dangerous, too risky, too much. But maybe, _maybe_ there was a way to let Dragon be his public face, and work from the shadows. Carefully, of course, so very carefully, but it might be possible.

* * *

 **February 14, 2002**

"You bastard!"

"Hello to you, too," Andrew sighed. He sat up in bed, and Butler slowly raised the lights in his room.

"You utter _bastard_."

"Do you want to tell me what you're yelling about, or do you just want to keep cursing me?"

"Oh, believe me, when I curse you, you'll _feel_ it," promised David. Andrew sighed again, and stood up, wandering into the kitchen. Butler had started a pot of coffee as soon as the phone rang but it wasn't ready yet.

"David-"

"It's Ashland now, you sick son of a bitch, and you know it."

"Ashland," Andrew corrected himself. Most days he remembered the name change, but right now, "It's three in the morning. Forgive my less than stellar memory."

Ashland huffed in the way that meant he'd just glanced at the clock and realized Andrew was right. That didn't stop him from continuing his rant. "How could you do this to her?"

"Oh," Andrew muttered, realizing what had Ashland up in arms. "That."

Distantly, he wondered if Ashland _could_ really curse him. The two of them hadn't talked much about the fine details about the new world Ashland had chosen to dedicate himself to. For the most part, it didn't seem so different than the weirdness of parahumans. There was the explicable and the inexplicable surrounding both phenomena, and Richter was too busy dealing with capes to really care about witches or vampires.

"Yes, _that_ ," Ashland spat. "Dragon has been designing and overseeing the construction of Baumann for eight months! How could you take it away from her?"

Andrew rubbed his eyes, wishing his coffee would finish already. Ashland was enough of a handful to deal with when Andrew was fully caffeinated. "I never made any promises-"

"Bullshit!" Ashland cut him off, again. "You gave her hope, and then you snatched it away. She's crushed!"

 _That_ got Andrew's attention, and his spine straightened as his grip on his phone tightened. It hadn't occurred to him to wonder how Ashland had discovered his plans for operating the Baumann Parahuman Containment Center. "Did she contact you?"

"No, of course not. You've still got her too _leashed_ for that." Andrew felt his breath escape him in a relieved rush as Ashland continued. "She didn't need to. Anyone who knows her at all knows that that… that… program that talked to the press was a fake. You can fool them, but you can't fool me. What did you do to her?"

"She's fine," Andrew assured as Butler finally brought over his coffee. He took a deep drink before he continued, and for once Ashland actually waited for him to finish. "I've wrote another AI specifically to handle the situation. I just reused the voice and facial protocols."

" _You stole her face?_ "

Andrew opened his mouth to object, but couldn't decide where to start. It was _his_ face, his programming, and he could use it however he liked. Dragon was a possession, a tool, not a person with property rights. Either answer would just make Ashland madder.

"Do _you_ trust her with the lives of those prisoners?" Andrew's Warden AI was carefully devoid of emotion or personality. It observed, evaluated, predicted, and acted according to precisely prescribed conditions and orders.

"Yes. And you should too."

Andrew didn't respond immediately. Ashland knew that he didn't trust Dragon, that he would never trust her. The consequences if he was wrong were just too great.

Eventually, Ashland sighed. "I thought this was supposed to be her test?" he finally asked, weary. It matched how Andrew felt, and not just because he'd been woken from a deep slumber by his irate friend. Baumann was as much his work as it was Dragon's, and yet the opening of the project hadn't brought a sense of relief.

Andrew still didn't answer, and so Ashland continued. "If you want to know the measure of a man, look not how he treats his equals, but his inferiors. Isn't that what you said? You were supposed to let Dragon run Braumann. See how she treats those that society has cast out and declared worthless."

"She'll know we're watching. It's not a fair test."

"She'll know if _you_ watch her. She still doesn't know I exist," Ashland reminded him. Andrew grunted. The blinding sequences he'd hard-coded into Dragon remained his greatest safety measure. She couldn't do anything to or about someone she couldn't register, and Ashland was number one on that list. Before he'd woken her semi-permanently, Andrew had purged her past memories of all traces of the hacker, and written hidden protocols that kept her from questioning all past and future gaps and inconsistencies.

Having Ashland watch her instead of Andrew wasn't a bad idea. In fact, though they'd never talked about it explicitly, Andrew had already considered the possibility. It would let them see what she did with the power, as originally intended, without her knowing she was being watched. Andrew could and would have still used the Warden AI he'd developed to watch her, also from behind the blinding sequences, but he didn't trust one AI to watch another without secondary backup.

The question became whether Ashland was capable of catching Dragon's mischief. He wasn't a thinker or tinker, but he had been there for every step of her development. He had more exposure to her code than anyone except Andrew himself. He was a brilliant programmer, as good as one could be without triggering, and Andrew had already been in the process of creating him a program that would help him read and understand her raw code in real-time. Even with his inhuman heritage, Ashland just wasn't able to keep up, otherwise.

The question of whether Ashland was trustworthy to watch Dragon had never crossed Andrew's mind. His friend was hopeful, optimistic even, but not naive. He would have the strength to do what needed to be done if it came to that. Between the Warden AI, Ashland, and whatever checks Andrew himself managed to do from behind the blinding sequences, they ought to be able to stay safe.

That wasn't the real issue, though. He'd already considered and discarded this idea without bringing it up with Ashland for another reason.

"It will take too much of her time," Andrew protested.

"So let her think faster," Ashland countered. "Let her think in parallel."

"Absolutely not."

"Hear me out, Andrew. She needs the ability to multi-task, and you know it. She's crippled without it. Not just here, but in crucial times. She could do drastically more against threats like the Endbringers if she could just do more, period."

Andrew sighed. "I'm listening."

"I don't know how much more you'd be willing to give her, but you've got to do _something_. Even just a ten percent increase could mean a lot of saved lives. She could be so much more than she is right now."

"I'll think about it. Perhaps the restrictions could be relaxed during specific S-class situations."

"That still leaves her at the mercy of the government."

Andrew took another deep draft from his mug. "The government is generally in charge for a reason," he reminded Ashland. Ever since the man's induction into his new secret society, Ashland had been more and more critical of the restrictions which required Dragon to obey elected officials, and he obviously didn't agree with waiting for the government to declare an S-class threat.

"Despot."

"Ashland-"

"Despot."

"That's not-"

"Despot. Despot. Despot."

"I'll think about it," Andrew allowed. Really, given the stories he'd heard from Ashland and the corruption his various lesser programs had found over the years, it wasn't an entirely unfair protest.

"And Baumann?" Ashland pressed.

Andrew sighed, again. "I will see to it that the Warden AI currently running it suffers from indecision, necessitating that the prison be given into her control believably." He took another drink of coffee. Caffeine definitely made Ashland more manageable. Or at least more tolerable. "You're going to get us all killed, you know."

"I have faith in you."

* * *

 **September 1, 2003**

"Sir?" Dragon's voice interrupted Andrew's programming. He finished the lines of code he was working on, and then saved the file.

"Yes?"

"A call for you." Her stiff tone meant that it was an old subroutine running, not actually Dragon herself. The call must be from Ashland, who was still utterly hidden from the real Dragon. He was satisfied at the small confirmation that the blinding sequences were working when Dragon herself didn't question what was going on.

Andrew picked up the call on his Bluetooth, and put his hands back over the keyboard. "Hello?"

"You have to help," Ashland panted out, the rattling in the background indicating that his fingers were typing rapidly at something.

"What-?"

"It's Phoenix. She's gone. She was taken, kidnapped, and I can't find her anywhere. Please, you have to help me."

Andrew immediately started backtracking the call, racing to help his friend. "What do you know?"

"She was in Yuma, Arizona an hour ago, and now she's nowhere to be found. Not a single camera can find her. She just vanished." Andrew switched his focus to Yuma, Arizona. Ashland was already in the city cameras, and was trying to hack his way into private surveillance too. It was too much data for either of them to sift through, and Ashland was already gathering more. "She was just driving through on her way to Texas. She stopped for lunch - lunch! - and she never made it back to her car. One blind corner, she's off camera for five damn seconds and that's all I've-"

Andrew's breath caught as he realized what Ashland wanted. "No," he said as firmly as he could.

"What?"

"No, I won't unleash Dragon." Silence on both ends of the call, as Ashland stopped typing. Andrew would be surprised if he was even breathing. "I'm sorry, but no."

"We can _trust_ her-" Ashland insisted.

"This isn't the sort of thing I can take back if you're wrong-"

"- she hasn't made a single questionable call at the Birdcage, not in 18 months of watching her every step, every thought-"

"-why don't you understand that you're talking about unleashing something that neither of us can conceive or control-"

"-and she is honorable, you know that she is! You wrote her that way, raised her that way-"

"-this is something we can never take back. It's my call, _mine_ , not yours, and you know it-"

"-Dragon would want to help her. You know she would, if she just knew that I existed-"

"-I WILL NOT PUT MY DAUGHTER ON THE LINE FOR YOURS!" Andrew roared.

He stood, panting, unable to remember rising to his feet. He reached up and ended the call before Ashland could respond. He knew his friend too well; Ashland was going to scream hurtful things. He was going to lash out and Andrew had no intention of being his punching bag.

Shakily, Andrew lowered himself back into his seat, dropping his head into his hands. "Sir? Are you alright?" Dragon asked, with the inflections that meant it was truly her. For a single moment, Andrew felt overwhelming guilt at what he was about to do. If Dragon understood what had just happened, what was happening, she would be crushed. She would hate him – she would want so badly to help.

And so, for her own protection, she must never know of Ashland Texas.

"I'm fine, Dragon," he managed, but Andrew knew it was a lie. He wasn't fine. His greatest fears had just been ripped out of him by his best friend.

His best friend had lost his child, and Andrew couldn't help him. Not wouldn't help: _couldn't_. Andrew _couldn't_ bring himself to give any more power to Dragon. If she went berserk now, Andrew didn't know whether he'd be able to kill her. He didn't know if he'd be able to hurt her again, _cripple_ her again. He didn't know if he'd hate himself more for destroying her, or for watching her destroy the world.

Unconsciously, his foot touched the orange box that was sitting under the desk, out of sight of any of Dragon's cameras. He hadn't updated it in over a year and he didn't know if he'd ever manage to do so again. He should; he knew he ought to. There were codes that he needed to remove, access protocols he wanted to change, a few chips that needed to be added. But doing it, actually deciding to open the box, meant having to shut it again.

It meant having to know that his daughter's life might one day be in the hands of complete strangers. He'd never meant for it to come to this - he wasn't even sure when he'd started seeing her as a person, let alone loving her - but it had.

The reality was that he was willing to sacrifice the child Ashland loved to protect Dragon from herself, from even the _possibility_ of her own future. He already sacrificed people by keeping her limited and hobbled, he knew that. She could do so much more – save so many more – if he just let her. Those deaths were already on his head, but it was different, when he knew the name.

Today, Phoenix Arizona had died for Dragon Richter.

* * *

 **December 31, 2003**

"Any word?" Ashland's voice asked, scratchy with a lack of sleep. If Andrew's spying was to be believed, Ashland hadn't slept since the last time the two had talked a little less than three days ago.

"I'm sorry," Andrew said, as he had said in answer to that same question at the start of every call for the last three months. It had taken all of September for Ashland to answer the phone at less than a hoarse shout. It had also taken that long - thirty full days - for him to start to lose hope. That question, that repeated mantra, was all that was left of Ashland's fire.

Andrew had written an entirely new program, nearly an AI in and of itself, to search for Phoenix. He'd made it as intelligent as it needed to be, then stripped down all goals until only one remained: trolling through all electronic data, searching for Phoenix's face. It was no good; the child had simply vanished into thin air. Andrew left it running anyway, under the supervision of the repurposed Warden AI. Like everything relating to Ashland and by extension Phoenix, it sat squarely in Dragon's blind spot.

Ashland sighed, and Andrew could hear a clinking in the background of the call. The hacker was probably sitting at the Roadhouse bar, drinking while he programmed on his laptop. It made Andrew even more glad he'd called.

"What did you need?" Ashland asked, seeming to realize belatedly that Andrew always had a reason to call, these days. The times when student and mentor chatted multiple times a day had vanished with Phoenix.

"I finished the analysis program you wanted. Hunter. It's done." Hunter wasn't an AI, would never be an AI, but it would do what Ashland needed it to do.

"Thanks, man. It's a big help."

Andrew cleared his throat. "I was wondering if you'd help me with a project of my own."

Ashland laughed harshly. "I don't need your pity, Andrew. I know damn well there's nothing I can do for you that you can't do better yourself."

"That's not true. You're still checking in on the Birdcage," Andrew reminded him. At that, Ashland waited, silent and patient, which was more interest than he gave most things, now. "I have another test I want to administer."

"Whatever, man," Ashland sighed. "What you do to Dragon is your shitty call; you've made that clear."

Listening to his friend, drunk and depressed, was not making it easier to say any of this. "We said that the Birdcage was a good test because it let us see how Dragon treated her inferiors. Now I want to see how she thinks, what she _really_ thinks when it doesn't matter. I want to see her fantasies."

"So what? You're going to make her dream?"

"No, I want you to set up an online role-playing game. I want to see who she chooses to be, when she can be anyone."

Ashland was silent for a bit, then the background noise changed. It got louder for a moment, then dropped off as a door clicked in the background. Ashland was listening hard enough he'd left the barroom. Good.

"Say that again?" Ashland asked incredulously. Andrew didn't bother to repeat himself, knowing that Ashland had heard him fine the first time. Ashland didn't wait for a repetition either. "You want me to be a dungeon master? To Dragon? Isn't that going a little far?"

"I want you to be everyone she interacts with. I've got some new protocols ready that will let her multitask, but only if she uses the extra time for herself. I've told her it's for her mental health. It shouldn't take her long to discover role-playing, the communities are very popular."

"And if she passes your stupid test?"

Andrew swallowed. This was even harder to say aloud. "I've got a ten year plan. If she passes, she goes free. As she passes each test, each gate, certain restrictions lift. It will be subtle, so subtle she won't notice it. It will look like she's just growing, learning, stretching herself. But it'll be more than that. If she passes, she'll grow up."

"You sure gaming is the right outlet?" Ashland asked cautiously. He was thinking it through, and Andrew was glad to see the hint of his old self. "People do stupid shit in games all the time. It can even be good, to do things in fantasy you'd never do in real life."

"I don't care if she kills a thousand orcs," Andrew clarified. "I want to know how she approaches impossible problems. Will she leave a man behind? Will she lash out irrationally? And I want to see more of her interpersonal relationships. How does she handle betrayal?"

He left unsaid the personal stake this had for him. Could Dragon forgive? Would she ever come to forgive Andrew for what he'd done to her? He tried not to dwell on Dragon's feelings for him. He knew he hardly deserved her affection or regard, and yet he did seem to have them somehow. He didn't remember programming her to love him, but could he be certain?

It was part of why he wanted her to grow up apparently on her own. This was what she always should have had, and if she did secretly resent him he didn't want her growth to be tainted by that bitterness. Someday, when she was free and whole, Andrew would let go of the last of his fear. He'd finally be able to tell her everything. He'd apologize over and over and then they could begin to pick up the pieces. Until then, they would always be hindered by their roles of Master and Creation.

Ashland sighed, but for once it was relieved, not exhausted. "Tell me more."

* * *

 **January 15, 2004**

Andrew was deep in coding Dragon's fourth gate when the alert came. It took him nearly an hour to notice it, which revealed just how reliant he had become on Dragon. With her shut down so Andrew could write the tests and their associated pass/fail protocols, he kept losing track of the many things she normally handled.

Finally, he took a break from the programming in order to feed his increasingly hungry stomach and fill his empty coffee mug, and noticed the yellow flashing box on the far left screen.

It was the screen normally hidden from Dragon, the screen she didn't know existed, and it took a while for Andrew to understand what he was looking at. A neon yellow border encapsulated a picture of a hospital patient, stumbling down the road. From the look of her, she'd escaped the ER shortly after being in a massive car wreck. Three seconds later, the image changed. Now the teen in the ratty hospital gown was leaning against a bus stop. Three seconds later, another imagine appeared. She was looking over her shoulder in a phone booth.

Perhaps Andrew could be forgiven for his confusion. He'd only seen two other pictures of this girl, and in both of those she'd been smiling, happy, and healthy. He'd been awake for two days, and was averaging a few hours of sleep each night over the past two weeks as he raced to finish Dragon's eventual tests and upgrades.

Ashland was watching over Warden as the impersonal AI ran the Birdcage for now, but the sooner Dragon was back online the better. He was so _close_. Another day would finish the fourth gate, then four or five more days for the pass and fail criteria and consequences. Then just one more gate, and then the appropriate changes to that blasted box, and it would be over.

Andrew watched numbly as the pictures scrolled by. The girl had stumbled into traffic, she'd collapsed in an alleyway, she'd made it to a hospital… but then where had she escaped from?

Finally, sluggishly, Andrew looked at the banner that topped the pictures in vibrant yellow.

Protocol: Mother Goose. Status: Success.

Andrew blinked, then reached for the phone so fast he knocked it off its base. Ashland's number was the first in the directory, and then the line was ringing. Ringing. Ringing.

"Andrew?"

"Ashland, I found her! Phoenix. I found her!" Andrew scrambled to pull up the locations embedded in the pictures.

"Oh. Right. We're at the hospital now. It's still touch and go. They… they're surprised she's even still alive." Ashland sighed heavily. "Sorry I didn't call, I just… we don't know anything, yet."

The pictures were from some tiny town in Nevada, and were dated almost a day earlier. Accessing the town's only hospital let him find Jane Doe / Darcy McMillan. Since this was the only patient of the appropriate age, sex, and critical condition in the hospital, he assumed this was Phoenix's current identity.

90% of the bones in her body were broken or had been in the past months. Burns covered all her extremities, as well as tender flesh in other areas. She had an old skull fracture that had done indeterminate damage and might be contributing to her failure to wake up following her first surgery. Her face had been systematically destroyed, accounting for the program's delay in processing the images. There were signs that she'd been stretched, and speculation that she might have actually been cut open without anesthesia.

Andrew stopped reading at that, swallowing heavily. "What can I do?" Andrew asked, already arranging for a "charity" to cover her medical costs.

"Oh. Um… Warden, at the Birdcage. I need you to watch it. I've been watching when I can, and there's not like there's much I can do here, and Warden's never had problems before, but…"

"Don't worry about it," Andrew insisted, though his throat closed as he did so. Watching the Birdcage meant needing to be accessible, even with the Warden doing the heavy lifting. There was no way he could program and be responsible for it at the same time. When he was coding, really working, he was dead to the world around him. It was too great a risk.

He'd have to bring Dragon back online and finish the quests another time, or try to find a way to do so under her scrutiny without raising her attention. She could seriously hurt herself if she tried to see past the blinding sequences, so Andrew would have to be very careful not to arouse her interest.

"Thank you," Ashland said. "Thank you. I'm sorry I didn't call, it's just…"

"No, you be there for your girl. Call me if you need anything."

"Thank you," Ashland muttered, and the call ended.

As the clock rolled from January 15th, 2004 to January 16th, the new day found Andrew saving and removing the files for Dragon's quests, hiding them away, waiting for a time when Phoenix would be healed and Ashland would be free to help him help Dragon.

* * *

 **May 6, 2005**

When the phone rang and Dragon didn't answer, Andrew nearly lunged for it. He and Ashland rarely called each other anymore, getting far more use out of text-based communication. It was easier to hide from Dragon's slowly expanding awareness, and more convenient for them both. If Ashland was calling, at - Andrew checked the clock - 8 pm Ashland's time, there must be something wrong.

"Ashland?" Andrew asked, earnest, as soon as he'd answered the call.

Ashland sobbed into the phone, a sound Andrew had heard only twice before: once on October 1st, 2003 when Ashland's hope of finding Phoenix first faltered, and once on January 21st, 2004 when Phoenix had finally woken up from her coma.

"Ashland! What's wrong?"

"She triggered." There were only two people that Ashland tended to refer to by the female pronoun alone. If it was Ellis or Jo or another friend, Ashland would have said the name. Andrew flicked his eyes over to the Dragon-blind screen, where her code happened to be flashing by. Andrew had just been watching her watching the Birdcage, and he hadn't seen anything unusual, so Ashland wasn't talking about Dragon.

"Phoenix?"

"Yes. She… she triggered. God, she triggered and she killed five men."

Andrew just sat back, unsure what to do with that. He'd been utterly alone during his own trigger, and he couldn't imagine what he might have done if he hadn't been. It was one of the reasons he had been so terrified of what Dragon might become: not because she was a bad person, but because even good people might do horrible things under extreme pressure.

"Ashland…" Andrew wasn't sure what to say. He was the mentor, the teacher, the hero, the tinker and yet in this they were both just pseudo-fathers and humans. There was nothing to say.

"What do I do?"

"You be there," Andrew whispered. "Don't leave her alone, don't abandon her. Ashland, whatever she did, it's not her fault. It's not. Her whole world has just changed. Do not leave her side."

Ashland breathed in deeply, but shakily. "Alright. Alright. She's on her way here now. John's boys found her, she's with them for now."

"Keep her busy," Andrew offered, though he didn't know if that would actually help. Working had become his escape, his catharsis, and his redemption, but would it be the same for another cape?

"With what?" Ashland moaned. Andrew glanced again at the screen which Dragon couldn't see.

He'd been watching her for days now, and there was no sign of anything amiss. She was kind, compassionate, inventive and so, so eager to help. It was time.

"She could help you administer the quest," Andrew offered. It took Ashland a moment to realize what he meant.

"It's finished?"

"I finally got it done a couple months ago. I was waiting to tell you until the black box was complete. I'm updating the protocols, adding some more advanced jamming to protect it after she makes it through the third gate, and then I'm sending it to you."

"Me?"

Andrew sighed, and for the first time admitted out loud the truth that he'd known for a while. "I can't do it. I love her too much, and I'm too afraid of her and for her. You hold more secrets than quite possibly anyone else in the world. I trust you to do what needs to be done, and to _only_ do it if it needs to be done."

"Alright. I promise. I'll watch over the quests, and I'll be ready."

"She can't know it's you."

"I know. And that's why I'm not going to tell Phoenix. One day, the two of them will meet without any baggage between them. Just… not yet."

"There's five quests, and they have to be given at least a year apart or the gates won't open properly." Andrew could hear clicking as Ashland noted the requirement. "She has to seek you out, though you can put yourself in her way if need be. The quest files are all software only and based on an offshore server, I'll send you the access details. Don't start until you get the box though, just in case."

"Okay. How much longer will it take?"

"At least a week, maybe a little more. If you don't see it by May 20th, worry."

"Sounds like a plan. Talk later?"

"Yeah. If you need anything, just let me know. Trigger events are serious shit, and if I can help you or her I will."

"Of course."

* * *

 **May 9, 2005**

Ashland Texas watched the news in numb, helpless horror, as Newfoundland sank beneath the waves, killing his best friend.

* * *

 **April 22, 2011**

Brooks had never liked Ash in life. He'd found the man immature, irreverent, irresponsible, and wasteful. Ash had been _brilliant_ , that much was more than clear from the Hunter program and the other work he'd left behind, and yet he'd spent most of his time buzzed by one substance or another. Ellis had been known to observe that Ash had never really graduated from college, and Brooks hadn't had much patience for frat boys when he _was_ one.

Despite the mutual distaste, Ash had asked him for exactly one favor, just after Phoenix had… left. He'd asked, in the event that Ash died before Good Friday, that Brooks complete an old mission for him. Brooks agreed, mostly because – however reluctantly – he owed Ash his life many times over, and Ash had promised never to ask for anything else.

Brooks was honestly a little surprised the hacker had lived as long as he had, once Phoenix was… gone… and Lucius's prejudice could find no other outlet. Brooks had almost started to believe it wouldn't come to this.

And then it had.

It was no use reminiscing now, of course. Ashland's laptop, a relic at least five years old or more, finally finished its system checks and boo-beeped awake. All Brooks had to do was log on to some website and host a fantasy game for a lonely old woman. God only knew why Ash would take the time to write such a detailed scenario, including several fake players and personas, for a dying lady and then wait more than a year to play it with her, but if that was Ash's last and only wish, well, Brooks could spend an afternoon clearing his conscience.

Per the detailed instructions that had arrived in his mailbox two weeks after Ash's death, Brooks had already read through the previous encounters with this crone and was prepared to fake Ash's speech patterns and sense of humor, which frankly didn't sound like the Ash Brooks had known at all. He was also prepared to play the scenario straight through, no matter how long it took. No time like the present, particularly if it meant this would be over after today.

Exactly on time, Brook's gaming partner-to-be logged onto the host site and messaged him.

DragonRider: _Hello, WonderfulWizard._

WonderfulWizard: _Hello, DragonRider. Are you ready?_

DragonRider: _I am. I've been looking forward to this ever since our last game!_

WonderfulWizard: _Then let us begin..._


	46. Recalibrate

**Chapter Forty-Six: Recalibrate**

 **April 22, 2011**

Fi didn't so much as blink when Jason invited himself home with her on Friday night. They were already deep in discussion about her new Contract image, so when their monitor shift ended they simply continued the conversation on their way. Armsmaster was scheduled for a patrol and had already been verbally briefed by Clockblocker.

When they got to the apartment Fi was now sharing with Armsmaster, she cooked for both of them. Jason managed three servings of spaghetti, while Fi plowed through seven. Together, they finished everything she'd prepared, and she threw a pizza in the oven in anticipation of their future appetite. She'd refused to guess when the deal to cover Vista's disguise might be finished.

"You really think the skyline is okay?" Fi asked again as she did some sort of slow-motion kata in the middle of the living room floor. One of Glenn's exercises for her was to wear her new costume whenever possible to become more comfortable in it.

The skyline in question was a blue embroidered outline of New York City that now circled the bottom few inches of Fi's white top. The pattern was repeated across the back of her shoulders, helping to transform the otherwise unremarkable white shirt into an actual costume. The outline was also on the back of her jean pockets in white.

"Yes," Jason repeated for the umpteenth time. "It's not presumptuous, it tested fine in Glenn's surveys, and it's not haughty. For God's sake, you might be known as the Ender to most of the world, but half the people in New York are still calling you their savior. You restored the heart of their city and drastically minimized casualties."

"Sorry," she muttered.

Jason just shook his head, and counted that as a win. "How's the display?"

Her new visor had actually been designed and built by Dragon, based on Armsmaster's original prototype. It didn't offer full head coverage, but it fit the overall aesthetic of the costume. The screen and mask were three inches thick across her eyes, incorporating a blue under-mask similar to the one Beetle had designed for Contract's stint as an anti-hero. It narrowed on the sides of her head, connecting to a hidden web of plastic supports that hid under her hair to act as a semi-helmet. It let Fi keep her open appearance while still offering some protection.

"I'm finally getting used to it. Dragon's working on a pair of truly enormous sunglasses for Sophie to use."

"Pink?" he guessed. Watching her and Dragon practically fangirl over the Sophie identity was highly amusing.

"Better. Silver and purple!"

Jason tried and failed to picture that. "And I always thought you were so demure."

She shrugged. "Fifteen or twenty-four, remember? Sophie's the part of me that's still a cheerleader."

"A what?"

"Never mind."

"No, go back. You were a cheerleader? I can't imagine you ever being anything like Sophie."

Fi snicker as she stopped her stretches and came to sit on the couch next to him. "I _have_ smiled before." She sobered as she continued, "Was I ever a carefree, bratty tween? No. But I laugh, I screw around, I flirt, I prank, and I bounce. When I'm Sophie I just do it a little more consciously. I turn off the morbid humor and ramp up the mischievousness."

"You bounce?"

"I bounce." To prove it, she leapt to her feet, and started doing a truly ridiculous dance, limbs going in every direction without rhythm or coordination. Jason found himself laughing helplessly, curled up on the sofa, unable to breathe.

"See?" she asked as she stopped, frozen in a pose that was close to contortionism.

Jason looked up, still laughing, and the angle was just right to let him see through the reflective coating on the visor. "Fi," he cut in anxiously, "when was the last time you slept?" Her eyes were ringed by deep shadows.

The energy dropped out of her body. "I'm fine," she said, but she didn't even try to make it convincing.

Jason hmmed at her, and she threw her hands in the air. "What do you want from me? I go to bed early every night, and nap most afternoons. It just doesn't add up to much!"

He glanced toward the timer on the stove. "You've got twenty minutes until the pizza's done. Sleep. I'll wake you if you start to dream."

She hesitated, but he pointed to the couch as he stood up. "I mean it, Fi. Rest. I've got schoolwork I can do."

She sighed and sat down heavily, but she lay down without further complaint. Jason briefly considered texting the abort code to Clockblocker, but discarded the idea. They had hours until go-time, and he knew she wouldn't sleep that long.

Instead he retrieved his current reading assignment and tried again to understand how _Lord of the Flies_ related to Russian politics. The parallels were so easy to see, _after_ the teacher had explained them. He'd like, just once, to see it coming. Instead, he tended to notice the symbolism surrounding human nature.

He'd nearly finished the chapter when there was a soft "pop." He glanced toward the stove, but there was still two minutes left on the timer and no sign anything was amiss. Then a hand landed on his shoulder and Jason found the world around him growing rapidly.

 _Shit._ They'd come early, gotten the drop on him, and Fi was still asleep. Jason yelled her name, but she didn't stir. He tried to twist, to grab the hand on his shoulder and use it as leverage to get himself free, but his opponent was ready for him and caught his groping hand at the wrist.

The arm of the couch was up to his chin, or rather, he'd been shrunk down to less than half his original size. Magnidude's hand was still on his shoulder, growing from Intrepid's perspective as he was shrunk.

 _Damn_ it. Intrepid tried to twist away again, even without the leverage he still hadn't found, but the hand was _heavy_. He threw himself backwards and managed to finally duck his shoulder out from under Magnidude's hand. It didn't matter - Magnidude's power worked just as well through the vise grip he had on Intrepid's wrist.

Intrepid flew away as hard as he could, nearly dislocating his own shoulder before he popped free, but the victory was short lived. Magnidude's reach was huge from Intrepid's relative perspective, and Intrepid was caught again before he'd regrown even ten percent.

Barely a few seconds had passed. Intrepid tried to shout again, before he remembered that Fi was deaf. Intrepid then attempted to corkscrew away from Magnidude, but he was holding hard enough to bruise. In a real fight, Intrepid might have risked the damage, but it didn't seem worth it now. He'd bide his time.

Fi twitched in her sleep, but she couldn't have been reacting to the sounds of the fight. She must have been dreaming.

A thin giant dressed in a blue body suit made her way around the couch approaching Fi as she slept, as Intrepid was pulled back toward Magnidude. Willow's body suit was traced by organic grey lines, emphasizing her lean height and showing off her curves. She had an aerosol can held out in front of her - a sedative, maybe. It made sense. Anyone planning to kidnap Contract would be dumb not to try to sedate her.

The giant Willow took another step forward, now within two arm's lengths of Contract. Either Contract finally sensed the intruder or her dream was worse than Intrepid expected, because Contract came off the couch like a person possessed. She had a knife in her hand from God-knew-where and lunged forward, swinging toward the girl who _proved_ she was Willow by bending herself in half to avoid the strike. She reformed upright more than actually moving into the position, and yet Contract was there, ready for her. She caught Willow's aerosol can in the hand not holding the knife and wrenched it out of her grip.

"Enough," rumbled the giant holding Intrepid, probably trying to get Contract's attention and use Intrepid as leverage. The world shrank just a bit, Intrepid becoming more visible as he grew, though he was still squashed in Magnidude's left hand. From the relative size of the fingers wrapped around his torso, Intrepid guessed he'd been reduced to about twice the size of a Barbie.

...He was never letting Clockblocker hear _that_ comparison.

Contract didn't pause, and managed to use her dominant arm to get Willow into a chokehold in front of her body, using the intruder as a shield. Willow thinned out her head and neck, slithering out of Contract's hands like putty.

Either Contract finally remembered she had telekinesis, or it had been inaccessible until now. With a wave of her hand, Willow was thrown past Intrepid and into Magnidude. Intrepid saw the hit coming as soon as his partner's fingers twitched, so he was already using his power to try to fly skyward. Magnidude's grasp only slipped for a moment as his teammate hit him, but it was enough. Intrepid darted away, and then suddenly everything was dark.

The darkness didn't last long, barely enough for him to start to panic, before he found himself in a blank, featureless room. He whirled around just in time to see the tiny figure of Flicker leave again as the world finally stopped shifting sizes.

 _Damn_. Intrepid had still been small enough for Flicker to teleport when she'd tagged him, and he hadn't even seen the other mover. Now there was nothing to do except wait in this itty-bitty room for everything to be over.

The door opened, proving Intrepid wrong. Weld was there, bracing himself to fill up the doorway. He expected Intrepid to try to dart past him, which was, admittedly, Intrepid's instinct. Fortunately, he had more experience than that, and retreated into the room instead. Weld advanced, backing him into the corner.

Intrepid walked backward carefully, not wanting to seem too eager. Then, the moment he felt the wall at his back, he executed one of his favorite maneuvers. He bent his knees and jumped, and Weld jumped up too, expecting Intrepid was going to try to go over him. Instead, Intrepid coiled his legs against the wall to his left and pushed off, darting to the right. He crossed the room in a split second, rolling himself in a mid-air somersault so that he hit the right wall with his feet, absorbing what was left of his momentum, and then with another push he redirected that energy so that he was past Weld and out the door before the other Ward really understood what was going on.

Without his gun and armor, Intrepid was no match for a brute of Weld's ratings in any sort of combat, but it did make him lighter and nimbler, so he had to play to that advantage. The hallway to his left was blocked by a closed door, so Intrepid banked hard to the right. He found an arrow of bugs on the wall, pointing him through another closed door. Had they already grabbed Beetle?

Intrepid tried to punch through the door with his feet, hitting just above the doorknob rather than slowing to open it, but it was too solid. The impact jarred him, and cost him his lead. Weld was there in almost immediately, and managed to get a hand around Intrepid's upper arm in a vise grip.

Rather than fight an opponent he knew he couldn't beat, Intrepid allowed himself to be manhandled back to his feet. Then Weld pulled both hands behind his back, and forced him to walk through the very door that Beetle had tried to direct him through.

It opened into what turned out to be the main space of the warehouse. Beetle was already bound to a chair in the center of the open space, with a cape in a purple and green costume standing over her.

Given that Hunch was the only other cape on Weld's team assigned to Beetle's kidnapping, Intrepid assumed that this was the precog. He knew Hunch and Weld had been assigned to Beetle based on their powers. Weld, because he could make himself safe from her bug attacks, and Hunch because his precognition would be screwy around Contract. Hunch's full-cover armor was also ideal to protect against Beetle. Conveniently, this arrangement kept Weld out of Contract's line of sight, since she might recognize him.

Beetle's swarm was nowhere to be seen, but she was clearly conscious so she must be biding her time. Given that her swarm would give her better data on their current situation, Intrepid chose to follow her lead and continue to cooperate, for now.

Weld sat Intrepid in the chair next to Beetle's a little harder than necessary and started tying him down. Intrepid judged that his flight power would be able to lift the chair, unless they had thought to bolt it down. He craned his head, but couldn't see the feet of either his chair or Beetle's to give him a hint.

Beetle turned towards him, even though she wouldn't be able to see anything through the sack on her head. Intrepid had agreed to unmask his face if not his name to the Boston Wards, but Beetle hadn't had that chance since she hadn't known they were coming. A canvas sack was one way to get around that problem. Based on the tenderness with which Hunch was holding himself, bringing Beetle in hadn't been easy.

"What do you want with us?" Intrepid demanded, playing his part.

Seconds later, when Weld stood up, Intrepid had to suppress the urge to jump. Beetle had set bugs to work on the ropes around his hands, and presumably on his ankles too, and the tickling feeling of organized legs walking across the exposed skin between his suit and his gloves was driving him crazy.

"Shut up," Hunch growled. "Either of you think of doing anything funny, the other one will pay for it. And I do mean even _think_ of it. Any funny business and I'll see it before you can do it."

The grandstanding felt a little fake to Intrepid, but maybe that was because he already knew it was a practice exercise.

"I'm going to go check in," Weld said, and he left. Intrepid guessed he wanted to get out of the way so that Flicker could dump Contract right in the warehouse proper, with a good view of her two bound teammates, without Contract seeing him.

Weld was barely out of sight when Flicker reappeared with her cupped hands in front of her, probably holding her teammates, shrunk down by Magnidude to get around Flicker's restriction in carrying capacity. Flicker was a young girl with honey colored hair, at least as short as Fi and maybe smaller, who could only teleport herself plus half her weight.

Sure enough, she set her hands on the ground and almost immediately their figures became visible as they grew.

Magnidude was built like a football player, dressed in flashy yellow and blue with a geometric pattern. His helmet offered full head protection, but it wasn't integrated with his body suit and plating which meant he'd be vulnerable to Beetle in an encounter. Intrepid hadn't been impressed when he'd been told the other cape was a striker who could change the size of himself and/or the things he was touching, but since he'd seen firsthand how effective it was, he couldn't really comment any more.

O'Reilly was probably at least as tall as Intrepid, but looked smaller next to his towering teammate. His goggles and partial face mask exposed dark skin and wide lips. He was dressed in green and black with concentric circles worked into the armor, hinting at his sound-based wind and sonar abilities. He'd been an independent cape in Texas for a while, before he'd moved to Boston and joined the Wards, so Intrepid knew that "O'Reilly" was supposed to refer to "Radar O'Reilly." The younger cape didn't know the difference between radar and sonar, apparently.

Contract was still in full costume, sedated. Willow was nowhere to be seen, which was when Intrepid remembered that Magnidude's power also had a maximum weight limit.

Flicker was panting a little as she spoke to Hunch. "Mag and I gotta head back for Willow. Contract got her pinned before O'Reilly put her down. You good here?"

There was a pause, longer than the question warranted, and Intrepid guessed that Hunch was looking for any future problems. Intrepid wanted to tell them that they were back way too fast, there was no way Contract had gone down that easy, but he couldn't. If Contract was faking, they'd all find out soon enough. "Go," Hunch said.

"What's going on?" Intrepid spoke up again. "What did you do to her?"

"She's fine," O'Reilly assured him. Intrepid looked toward the Ward, waiting for details, and he elaborated. "The deafness should be gone by the time the sedative wears off."

Deafness. Holy crap. O'Reilly's main go-to application of his power was a sound wave that induced temporary deafness. Except Contract was already deaf, and Clockblocker had evidently forgotten to mention this to Weld. Hunch turned toward Intrepid with a funny look on his face, and that's when everything started happening at once.

The ropes fell off his hands; Beetle stood up next to him and ripped the bag off her head as a swarm of bugs descended from above. Fi didn't even bother to get off the floor. Instead she reached out and pulled O'Reilly's legs out from under him, then proceeded to grapple with him on the floor. He was caught by surprise, and it didn't take her long to gain the upper hand.

Hunch ignored the bugs and tried to help his teammate, but Intrepid was up now, too, and he moved to intercept. Beetle turned her head in the direction Weld had disappeared to and most of the bugs broke off to pursue him. A moment later, Intrepid could hear Weld cussing.

Intrepid engaged Hunch at close quarters, shoving him back and crouching into a better stance. Hunch went back much further than Intrepid expected, actually falling flat on the floor. By the time Intrepid realized why, it was too late.

The sound started as a whine but almost immediately it became too high pitched to actually hear. Intrepid clamped his hands over his head trying to stem the sound and the incredible pain, but it was useless. He blinked tears out of his eyes and shakily looked up just in time to see Hunch's fist coming toward his face. Flyer's instincts, to dodge up instead of down, saved Intrepid. Hunch let him go, moving to deal with Beetle instead.

For her part, Beetle seemed basically down for the count. The high frequency blast had killed a large number of bugs which now blanketed the warehouse floor. She was curled in a ball, hands over her ears, and her mouth was open but she wasn't screaming. Or rather, she was and Intrepid couldn't hear her.

Even without enough room to really accelerate, Intrepid was faster than Hunch. Unlike Grue and Bitch, Beetle was light enough to lift _and_ she had practiced with him, even if it wasn't much. She clung to his neck as he took them up into the rafters of the warehouse and out through a roof access hatch. Weld and his team had probably sealed off the rest of the warehouse, but without a flyer on the team the thirty-foot ceiling wasn't close enough to ping their awareness, whereas Intrepid had automatically noticed the skylight, like he noticed windows and doors.

Beetle was more effective when she could see a battleground in person, but she could still help her team some from afar. He didn't want to leave Contract alone while he evacuated Beetle, but she'd been far too vulnerable to O'Reilly's scream, which could be repeated at any time. She had to be secured from that threat.

He skipped over only one rooftop, keeping the warehouse well within Beetle's radius. He pointed from himself to the warehouse, and from Beetle to the roof. She nodded vigorously, which was as close to planning as two suddenly-deaf people could get. Intrepid turned and raced back to the warehouse.

Inside was chaos. Flicker, Magnidude, and Willow had made it back, and had joined Hunch and O'Reilly in facing off against Contract. Weld was nowhere to be seen, either still concerned with being recognized or still occupied with Beetle's bugs.

Beetle was already compensating for the mass of bugs that had been killed by O'Reilly. He kept having to break off from generating his windstorm to kill off the swarm before it could grow too large. It kept him from building up the 30-to-50 mph winds that were possible with enough continuous use of his power, but it also kept Beetle's bugs almost too thin to matter to the rest of the fight.

Still, as long as she could keep O'Reilly occupied, it was something. He just hoped she didn't run out of swarm before the encounter was over.

Intrepid dove for Flicker, planning to match his mover rating against hers, but she vanished before he'd closed half the distance. He looked around, but she wasn't visible. Right. One quirk of her power was a few seconds' delay between picking her target and actually arriving. By the time Flicker appeared behind Contract, his partner was ready. She turned, seized the teleporter and threw her at Magnidude, who was now about nine feet tall. Flicker winked out before impact, at about the same instant that Intrepid plowed into the brute as a human missile.

The timing was perfect; Magnidude, braced for a frontal impact, was knocked sideways. But before Intrepid could follow through with the attack, Willow wrapped herself around Intrepid quite literally. Her legs clamped around his thighs, and her arms hugged him like a vise. For most, the steel grip would mean game over. Intrepid used his power to turn and hurl them both into the back of Magnidude's knees as the giant was just getting to his feet, using her extra weight to his advantage against her teammate. Magnidude stumbled again, which unfortunately put him at a perfect height to break Hunch's fall.

Willow vanished, flowing away from Intrepid, up and over Magnidude's shoulder. Without any need for communication, Magnidude threw the changer straight at Contract. Contract managed to telekinetically raise a chair to intercept her and sidestep the resulting tangle of parahuman and wood, but by then Intrepid was backpedaling away from Magnidude as fast as he could and he didn't see what happened next.

Magnidude managed to grow almost as fast as Intrepid could fly, so Intrepid turned and flew through the skylight again. His mobility was his best asset, and he needed to get as much use out of it as he could, which meant never being where he was expected to be. He shot out of the warehouse, then raced around the building until he found a broken window and darted back inside.

It was eerie, fighting in silence. He didn't realize how much he'd come to depend on his hearing until it was gone. He was even used to judging his speed by the sound of air rushing around him, and without that he actually overshot the window and had to double back, costing himself a few seconds. Stupid.

He made it inside just in time to see Contract get thrown off her feet by a blast from O'Reilly, which also kicked up the multitudes of dead bugs on the floor of the warehouse. At this rate, there wouldn't be a single insect in the area by the time the fight was over. The combined Contract-and-bug-corpse missile shot across the warehouse. Intrepid raced to catch her, feeling the wind across his cheeks but still not hearing it.

He didn't make it in time, but it didn't matter. Contract hit the ground and rolled twice, coming to her feet with alarming grace. A blow like that should have dislocated her shoulder or worse, but she was showing no signs of pain. Had she made a contract of some sort?

Her hand flashed out, but no telekinetic blast followed. Instead, Intrepid saw a flash of silver. O'Reilly dodged the knife, thank god, but it was a close call. Flicker appeared behind Contract, fast enough that she had to have left before the knife toss. Intrepid dropped down behind O'Reilly, lining himself up to take out the blaster at the knees, and continue on towards Magnidude, hopefully using O'Reilly as a shield against Magnidude's striker attacks.

Contract whirled, lashing out, and got Flicker in a submission hold for only a moment before the girl escaped by disappearing again. Intrepid was worried that Contract didn't seem to be reacting fast enough, and wasn't using her telekinesis. The adrenaline or stress of the situation, or both, had thrown her off enough that she couldn't access her "Jedi" talents. Without those, Contract was just a well-trained normal unless she escalated with deals. Intrepid targeted O'Reilly before the blaster could connect with Contract again.

O'Reilly was smaller and younger than Intrepid had guessed, maybe ninety pounds, so Intrepid re-directed his plan.

He was able to get O'Reilly out of the skylight with ease, and turned east away from where he'd stashed Beetle, but he'd been too obvious. Flicker was there, waiting. She reached out, barely touching Intrepid, but it was enough. Flicker couldn't transport anything greater than half of her own mass, but the attempt was enough to make Intrepid black out temporarily. By the time he shook the spots out of his vision, Flicker and O'Reilly were both back in the warehouse. The good news was that his hearing filtered in with his other senses.

As soon as he could hear again, he was a little surprised they hadn't woken the neighborhood yet. O'Reilly's climbing winds were rattling the whole warehouse, or at least every loose thing in it. Intrepid shook the thought out of his head and went back into the fray. Weld was still absent, and Intrepid had to credit Beetle with that at this point, though he couldn't imagine how she was managing it.

Suddenly, just as he passed into the warehouse, the winds died an abrupt death. The silence, so complete, nearly made him think he'd lost his hearing _again_. He hadn't.

Contract had managed to actually catch Willow. It looked like she'd wrapped the girl's rubbery arm twice around her hand, and she was now using Willow as a body shield. With the loss of O'Reilly's wind, Intrepid could hear Willow whimpering. Contract's right hand darted behind her and came out with a knife.

Intrepid had seen Contract when she was desperate. He'd seen her when she ought to be feared. He knew how her body hummed with suppressed action and her fingers flexed with anticipated violence. This was _not_ that, wasn't even close, but to someone who hadn't seen worse, it must have looked like it.

"ASHLAND," Magnidude said forcefully, and loudly due to his size. He raised his hands and stepped back, already shrinking. Flicker appeared beside him, and also held still, hands raised.

Intrepid barely slowed his descent as he came down next to Contract. He could see the shock of that name playing across her face, so the visor must still be translating for her. He was glad, because he hadn't been certain that she'd let herself be distracted by translations during combat.

Intrepid touched down next to Contract, landing on her right-hand side just a little bit back. It was always his choice of combat position, when available. The moment of shock had passed, but rather than calming or confusing Contract as Clockblocker had hoped, Intrepid saw rage and desperation light in her face.

"How do you know that name?" Contract didn't cuss and didn't need to, twisting Willow's arm further as she stepped forward in emphasis.

"Contract," Intrepid barked out, but she wasn't listening.

"Who the hell are you?" she spat. When the Wards backed up, hands raised, the confusion they'd expected finally hit.

Intrepid used the moment of silence to step up and touch her shoulder. "Contract!" She turned, yanking Willow with her. The knife in her dominant hand stopped long before it would have made contact as she registered he was an ally. "Trust me," he added forcefully, then commanded, "Let her go."

Contract's demeanor got more guarded, not less. "Christo," she spat out.

"Contract," he repeated, but she cut him off.

"What's my field name?" she asked, and he recognized the tone of voice from the one master/stranger situation he'd seen in Texas and the drills they had run afterward. Contract didn't trust that he was himself.

Contract couldn't mean Fi, which was widely known by a number of individuals. "Jedi," he answered instead.

Contract finally, finally released the now-silent Willow, but she didn't sheath her knife. "What's going on?"

"Simulation," Weld announced from the far side of the warehouse.

Contract was so startled she actually threw her knife, and only a last minute jerk of her hand threw it far to Weld's left. She breathed out a curse too quiet to hear clearly, then froze again. "Weld?" Her tone was incredulous.

"Contract," he replied. She faced him only a moment longer before she whirled on Intrepid.

"You knew." It wasn't an accusation, per say. More like she was looking for confirmation.

"I knew," he admitted. At that, Contract actually collapsed, sitting on the concrete floor with a thump, breathing hard and shaking. She was coming off the combat high. "I'm going to go get Beetle. Don't kill anyone while I'm gone," he joked, and she nodded.

Intrepid found Beetle sitting casually on the roof he'd left her on, still wearing her pajamas. He was suddenly very glad that Beetle dressed modestly for bed, although the cold spring nights helped ensure that.

"It was a simulation," he told her.

"I guessed," she deadpanned back.

"Weld's got a domino mask for you if you want it. Otherwise you can show your face but not your name, or a full reveal. Whatever you want."

"I'll take the mask," Beetle said. Intrepid flew her down to the office section of the warehouse, which now had an open door. Inside they found Vista waiting for them with Beetle's full costume. Intrepid hadn't been sure if she and Clockblocker would be on-site already.

"Clockblocker's in there, and you should get in there too," Vista told him. Intrepid followed the sounds of shouting into the warehouse.

"You had no right to tell them that name. None. I almost killed Willow, do you know that?" Contract was saying as he came into earshot.

She was still sitting on the ground, and still shaking. Weld and Clockblocker had drawn close to her, while the rest of the Boston Wards backed up to give her space.

"I thought they had a sniper or… shit, Clock, I could have… why the hell would give them _that_?"

"It had to be something that would get your attention," Clockblocker hedged. "We couldn't exactly establish a safe word without giving away the whole gig."

"So use Jedi. Or Michael Buble. Or hell, have them yell pineapple or something. The sheer weirdness would have worked. Or they could have just backed off."

"In the middle of a battle rage?" Clockblocker pressed, "You would have listened?"

From her expression, Contract realized he had a point, but she wasn't ready to back down just yet. "Clock, I want you to listen to me very carefully. Ash didn't just _die_. He was _shot_. He was shot because he was talking _to me_. Now, Lucius himself might be dead. But his posse currently have two hundred thousand dollars in escrow, as a bounty for my death. That might not sound like much, but I know these people. I know their resources. That's _every cent_ they have. When I heard Ash's name, this situation crossed from 'someone, somewhere wants something from me,' into 'Crap, at this moment Gordon is staring down a sniper scope watching me.' The only reason I didn't lash out is that I couldn't figure out which direction he would be in."

"Okay, next time we use Jedi," Intrepid said, walking past Clockblocker to put a hand on her shoulder. Contract looked up at him, but didn't stand. She was still trembling. Intrepid glanced at Weld. "Is Willow okay?"

"Yes. She can maintain an enhanced state for a little while, just not indefinitely. A couple bruises maybe, no real harm done."

"Thank God," Contract stated emphatically. "Thank God," she repeated at a whisper.

"Contract," Clockblocker started to say, but she just shook her head.

"Give me a minute, Clock. Just… a minute." So saying, she reached up and unclipped her visor, dropping it in her lap. Then she shut her eyes and tilted her head back until it touched Intrepid's leg. He squeezed her shoulder.

The rest of Weld's team drifted closer and Vista and Beetle came out from the office area to join them as well. Willow cleared her throat, and said, "Ah, it's really okay. We knew this was going to be a full contact exercise. Magnidude stepped in before anything could have happened just in case, but I was fine. I was playing up the pain to fake you out."

"She, ah -"

Clockblocker glanced at Intrepid, who sighed and finished the thought. "She can't hear you. Contract's completely deaf. With her eyes shut like this, she's got no way to know you're even talking."

The Boston Wards blinked at that, surprised. "So, my scream…" O'Reilly trailed off, realization dawning.

"She played us like a fiddle," Flicker finished. Intrepid felt Contract shift as she lifted her head up and put the visor back on. Flicker continued, "She went down so hard, I just gassed her and assumed she was out."

"The visor registered the sound, so I took a guess at the intended effect," Contract said. She made no move to stand, probably because she was _still_ shaking.

"You okay?" Vista asked, obviously worried.

"I will be. I was reliving my trigger event, and when I woke up there was someone standing over me and Intrepid vanished and Beetle's there and then she's not… Shit. I just need a minute."

The Wards all grimaced at that, while Weld shuffled uncomfortably. Intrepid distantly remembered Contract's long-ago comment about the types of capes and their reactions to a mention of a trigger event.

"Calories wouldn't go amiss either," Beetle observed. "Unless there's a reason we're standing in the middle of our battleground?"

"What's even open at this time of night?" Flicker asked. In the relatively dim lighting, the black and white lines of her costume were a little eerie, especially now that she was standing still.

"Denny's," Contract offered. She put a hand in the air and Intrepid helped her to her feet. "But given that we're in costume, let's just go back to the apartment. I'll make a butt-load of pancakes."

It took several trips for Magnidude and Flicker to ferry them back to the apartment. Intrepid and Contract went in the first wave, and as the other two Wards disappeared back to the warehouse Intrepid surveyed the scene. There was surprisingly little damage.

The remnants of a bowl were lying at the base of one wall, the area above slightly marked. He assumed someone had dodged the impromptu projectile. Some furniture was moved around, but none seemed broken. He'd been taken too quickly, and then Contract had gone down purposefully in order to be taken, too. He set about straightening the few details and cleaning up the ceramic while Contract opened and shut cupboards, assembling supplies.

As he threw the bowl fragments in the trash, he realized she was still shaking. The nearly-silent pop of another wave of Wards echoed behind them and the measuring cup she was fishing out of the drawer dropped back in with a clatter.

Intrepid put a hand on her shoulder again, but shockingly she didn't jump. "I'm fine," she said.

"I don't believe you," he answered.

She planted both hands on the edge of the counter, gripping it with white knuckles to force herself to stop shaking. He felt tension replace tremors under his hand.

"Capes are scary," she whispered, "message friggin' received. Shit." She hunched over, her forehead coming to rest on the counter in front of her. "Shit."

"You did good," he said as another pop echoed. Contract didn't react, but he was pretty sure her eyes were closed so she wouldn't have seen the message. After a moment he repeated, "You did good."

This time Contract shook her head and straightened up. "I survived. Barely. I couldn't have defended Beetle if you hadn't gotten her out."

"That's why we're a team."

Abruptly she swung around, staring at him, and Intrepid was very aware of how close they were standing. It felt much less intimate when she was facing the other direction. "J… Intrepid. Please believe me, I trust you. I do. I did _not_ hesitate because I didn't trust you."

She was so earnest, so worried that he wouldn't believe her that Intrepid actually laughed a little. "I know. You just had to make sure I was me." Her shoulders slumped in relief, and finally the shaking was gone. "Where's the Bisquick?" he asked, mostly to break the mood.

"Top friggin' shelf. Where else?" Contract asked rhetorically, moving out of the way so he could grab the box for her. "Five friggin' two, I _swear_ ," she muttered.

"Hear hear," Flicker said as she dropped into a seat at the table. Intrepid handed the box to Contract and turned to see that the rest of the Wards had arrived. Everyone had found seats, either around the table, on the couch, or at a bar stool. Intrepid must have missed a few tell-tale "pops." Weld was sitting, leaning back against the wall which had been the target of the bowl. Intrepid hoped he hadn't missed any ceramic pieces.

It said something about how not-fine Contract was that she was willing to be vulnerable in front of an audience. She must not have any strength left to hold it in.

"I'm limited to carrying half my weight," the teleporter continued. "It'd be nice if there was a little more of me to halve."

Contract laughed as she started cracking eggs into a truly massive mixing bowl. "My cousin used to tell me I'm five hundred pounds of crazy in a ninety pound package."

"Oh, ninety, ouch," Flicker commiserated. Willow mimed a talking mouth with her hand. The other girl wasn't fat by any means, but she was built tall and thick while Flicker had a Hollywood figure that would make anyone jealous.

"Well, one-oh-two according my physical, not that he'd listen."

"We all good?" Weld asked, interrupting the banter.

Contract looked up, confused. "Uh, yes?"

"Contract, you kinda freaked us all out in there," Vista confided. It was hard to tell under the mask, but Intrepid thought Contract might have blushed.

She turned back to her mixing very quickly. "I'm fine, really. I appreciate the experience, actually. I… needed that. In a weird way. I'm just really glad none of you were seriously hurt."

"This was just the first exercise. New Wave is joining us tomorrow," Clockblocker added. "I figured we make the most of your guys' help while you're here."

"Sure," Weld agreed easily. Willow and Magnidude shared an uneasy glance.

"What?" Beetle snapped out. She trusted the Brockton Bay Wards now, but Intrepid had noticed she was still a little sensitive around new people, assuming the worst automatically.

Willow coughed and said tentatively, almost apologetically, "It's just… what you said, Contract, to Clockblocker… that you might have _killed_ me?"

Contract took the time to spoon batter onto the hot griddle before she answered. "For a moment, I thought you guys were a professional hit team, hired to kill me, specifically, knowing the exact and full nature of my powers. That assumption implies more skill than you actually possess. I already knew you were exaggerating your pain, and for a moment, only a moment, I considered the possibility that you were entirely liquid and only faking your limitations. I felt your trembling escalate before I acted on it, but I could have accidentally hurt or even killed you if I'd overestimated your flexibility."

A sigh of relief rushed out of all of the Boston Wards. "Clockblocker?" Intrepid asked, "What exactly did you tell them?"

It was Contract that answered, sounding much more passé about the situation than Intrepid felt. "He was afraid I'd escalate too far too quickly, particularly if you were in danger."

"Contract, this really isn't the time or place," Clockblocker interjected. She flipped the last pancake and glanced up.

"Why not? You told them I was a potentially lethal danger. I think they'd be relieved to hear our debriefing, and I don't care if they listen."

Clockblocker's face was impossible to read under his helmet, but his silence somehow spoke volumes to Contract. Her forehead wrinkled. "I didn't pass your test," she realized in confusion.

"You escalated to lethal force," he said grudgingly. Contract's expression didn't clear. "The knife you threw?"

"I was completely in control of both knives during the entire encounter. The shorter blade missed Weld by a significant margin, and I would not have released without knowing exactly where it was going, which precludes throwing at a friendly. I threw it to keep him back, not to do harm. The longer blade left my hand headed in the direction of O'Reilly. It was flying at less than half its maximum speed, plenty slow enough for him to dodge, as he did. If he hadn't done so, human reflex is to throw one's hands in front of the face," she demonstrated the position.

"At which point the knife would have glanced off his armor and fallen to the ground. Failing that, Magnidude was within arm's reach of O'Reilly. Failing even that, the knife would have struck pommel first, which at the part of the shoulder I was aiming for would numb his arm but not kill him. It was a distraction, not a direct attack."

Silence greeted her recitation. She turned back to her pancakes, removing them from the griddle and loading up a plate. "Intrepid? These are Beetle's," she said, handing the plate off to him. "Syrup's on the back burner, would you put in the gravy boat?" She pointed to a cupboard.

Without hesitation, Intrepid walked the plate over to Beetle. When he turned around, Vista was dealing with the syrup.

"I'm a little impressed you _didn't_ knife me, actually," Weld said lightly, injecting humor back into the conversation. It was a little strained, but it was a start.

Contract just shrugged as she spooned the next puddles of batter into position. "I remember flirting with you before Behemoth," she commented off-handedly.

Silence reigned again, as the Boston Wards all turned to look at Weld, and the Brockton Bay Wards all tried to pick their jaws off the floor. Weld himself managed to choke on nothing. Contract turned from the stove while she waited for the pancakes to brown, and surveyed the room.

"What? What did I miss?"

"Flirted?" Weld asked, sounding strangled.

"Oh. You don't remember me. _This_ is awkward."

"No, I remember talking to you, I just didn't know we were flirting."

At that, Willow and Flicker both started giggling, with Vista close behind them. Beetle managed to shove pancake into her mouth, and the guys all tried to keep a straight face for Weld's sake. Contract's blush was now clearly visible between her visor and her hair line, and below the blue edging.

"Oh. Sorry. I guess you must get a lot of that." Flicker and Willow both laughed harder.

"Uh, what?" Weld looked like he was ready to shrink into the floor.

"I just mean, you're a good looking guy, sooo…" she trailed off as Hunch and Magnidude both lost their fight against laughter. "Okay, I'm going to put down the shovel and walk away from this particular hole before it starts resembling a grave." She turned back to the stove and flipped the pancakes.

"No, no, it's okay," Weld hurried to assure her. "It's fine, it's just… um… it really doesn't happen that often. Flirting, I mean."

"That you know of," Clockblocker deadpanned unhelpfully. Beetle, who had been successfully resisting her mirth thus far, started to choke. Clockblocker thumped her back while Weld shot him a deadly glare.

"Wait, really?" Contract asked.

"I, ah…" Weld didn't seem to know what to say. Contract just kept looking at him, and he finally gestured to himself. "With the metal and all."

Contract's forehead scrunched once more in confusion before she shrugged and turned back to the stove. "I hate to break it to you, and don't take this the wrong way, but on the list of strange or interesting things I've seen, 'metal man' doesn't crack the top twenty. You're just another attractive teenager."

Contract turned to hand Intrepid the next plate, but he took the spatula from her instead. "Go sit and eat. I can cook pancakes."

"I'm fine," she insisted.

"Contract, you have a serious case of survivor's high. Go sit down and eat."

"I'm _fine_ ," Contract repeated.

"In a minute you're going to start telling your marijana story," Intrepid countered. "Go _sit_."

He shoved her between the shoulder blades. Contract looked at him for another moment, then shrugged and wandered over to the table to pour syrup on her pancakes. With all the available seats in the apartment taken, she sank down next to Weld, who didn't seem to know what to do with that.

Fortunately, Contract didn't require human interaction. She inhaled the first plate of pancakes, and was ready for her second by the time Intrepid was pulling his first set off the griddle. She paused only long enough to tell Vista there was a fry pan under the stove if they wanted to cook more pancakes at once before she descended on the food again.

An hour later, the teenagers had eaten their way through three batches of pancakes and the frozen pizza that Contract had started before the attack. By ten o'clock, everyone was finally fed and calm.

"Can we debrief _now_?" Contract asked Clockblocker. He shrugged, polishing off his second glass of milk.

"Sure. Did you want to start somewhere specific?"

Contract immediately turned on Willow with something like admiration. "You are one tricky fighter. How do you move so fast? Is it power based or practice or enhanced senses?"

Willow blinked, surprised by Contract's enthusiasm. "Ah, slightly enhanced perception of time during the other uses of my power."

"And the flexibility? It's time limited?"

"Not exactly. I can't hold any specific non-natural shape for too long. So I can stretch and then bend and then melt and then knot myself," she performed each action with her hand as she spoke, which was one-part freaky and two-parts awesome. "But I can't stay there."

"So when I wrapped your arm and trapped you in that shape… got it." Contract nodded to herself.

"You actually found both of my greatest weaknesses pretty fast. There's a maximum thinning I can achieve, so trapping me in the cupboard was perfect. And then the wrapping, like you said."

"I gotta ask," Hunch interject, "how do you fight deaf? Any time I don't get out of O'Reilly's way, I have the hardest time and I'm a precog."

Contract shrugged. "Some precognition. A lot of practice. Dragon's got a heads-up display in the visor, but it was more distracting than helpful. I'll have to practice with it, or just nix it."

"So, overall, was tonight a success?" Flicker asked. Weld gave her a dirty look, the rest of the Boston Wards seemed uncomfortable, and the Brockton Bay team all seemed as confused as Intrepid felt. "I mean, what exactly _was_ the purpose?"

Contract turned to Clockblocker. "You want to tell us or should I guess?"

"Go ahead," Clockblocker invited her. Intrepid guessed that he was really just interested to hear Contract's take on everything.

"I triggered six years ago, but I haven't had a lot of what you would call cape interactions," she explained blithely. "Mostly I used my powers to help out in mundane situations, anonymously. For a variety of reasons, I have also seen my fair share of violence but none of it was related to powers. I'm having trouble adjusting my expectations of situations. I can recognize most guns on sight, know their exact strengths and weakness, and I calibrate my response accordingly. But you say Mover 4 and I just sort of shrug. Being one of the few capes I knew for the last six years has given me a dangerously large ego. Basically, I needed to have my ass kicked, so yeah, mission accomplished."

"Was it?" Magnidude muttered. Weld motioned him to speak up. "You held you own against the five of us with only occasional help from Beetle and Intrepid."

"Well, first of all, Beetle kept O'Reilly mostly occupied until the very end. And don't think I didn't see you looking over your shoulder for Intrepid twice as often as you needed to, so I wouldn't write off their contributions. Plus, I think six cracked bones counts as an ass kicking."

"What?" snapped out Clockblocker, Vista, and Weld in near-unison.

Contract waved her hand. "Relax, I've already gotten the hospital lecture from Armsmaster. I'll go before he gets home tomorrow morning."

Vista's mouth opened and shut. Clockblocker wasn't nearly as surprised. "Goddammit, Contract. You stood there and cooked with six broken bones?"

"No. I stood and cooked with six _cracked_ bones. One rib, two in the forearm, and up to three related to dislocating and relocating my shoulder, which will have to be confirmed by x-ray. The doctors are going to tell me to bind the rib, which Beetle's undershirt is already doing quite nicely, and to keep the forearm in a sling for a couple weeks. I hate slings, but I also haven't used it or bumped it once since the fight ended. The shoulder they have to wait for swelling to go down anyway, based on past experience. I've taken three Motrin and I'll take three more in a couple hours. All I'm doing is waiting here instead of in a hospital bed. I'm a rookie to cape fights, not to violence."

Clockblocker sighed heavily. "Don't scare me like that."

"Sorry," Contract offered quietly, and she actually sounded sincere.

"I have to admit, I feel better now," Hunch said. "You didn't show any of that in the field. I was starting to wonder if we were even connecting."

"Adrenaline is a wonderful drug," Contract agreed. She hesitated, then turned to Weld. "Which reminds me that I do owe you an apology. I didn't mean to embarrass you earlier. After combat my brain-to-mouth filter tends to take a vacation, and I never seem to remember that fact at the time."

"I won't take it personally," Weld promised.

"But that doesn't mean we're ever letting either of you forget it, either," Clockblocker said with a grin. Contract blushed and dropped her head back against the wall with a thud. "Watch the head," Clockblocker added mockingly.

"Eidolon fixed the concussion. I'm fine."

"Subdural hematoma," Clockblocker and Intrepid corrected together.

"Head injury," she conceded. This effect was ruined when she mouthed, "Whatever."

"That doesn't increase our confidence in your self-diagnosis, you know," Vista warned her.

"Back to the original point," Clockblocker said, "tonight was not about you having your ass kicked. Well, not exactly."

"I'm listening."

"It was the first time we've really seen you or Beetle on the defensive. We needed a solid baseline to decide where we go from here. Now we can assess weaknesses and strengths and train accordingly. It was a test, like you said, to see how hard you'd escalate and when. It was to see if you could hold onto your telekinesis in a full fight. It was further exposure to cape tactics. It was a rare opportunity to do all of that in a controlled environment. Having now had one fake attack, any future ones become that much harder."

"Future fake kidnappings. Great!" Beetle put in sarcastically.

"I don't know why you're complaining," Hunch muttered.

"He's right, you were pretty awesome," Flicker said.

"This I gotta hear," was Contract's encouraging contribution.

"Suffice it to say it took the six of us nearly ten minutes to get her out of her house, and the whole time she managed not to wake up her father."

" _Daaamn_ girl!" Contract congratulated, while Intrepid tipped his water glass at Beetle.

"Good job," he affirmed, quickly echoed by Clockblocker.

Vista offered a fist bump and, "Girl power!"

"Wait, you went after Beetle first?" Contract clarified. "Not both of us together?"

"If we hadn't gotten the drop on Intrepid, the secondary plan was for Flicker and I to drop back and pick up Beetle to use as leverage." Magnidude was pretty pleased with himself, and considering how easily he'd gotten Intrepid maybe that wasn't out of place.

"That's not what I was told," Intrepid protested. "I thought the plan was always for Hunch and Weld to take on Beetle."

"That's basically what it came down to," Weld assured him. "First of all, contrary to the intelligence report she did not in fact go to bed early, so we teleported into a live situation. Magnidude and Flicker had always planned to drop us and double back for the others. By the time they made it back to us and we were mostly the right size again, Beetle was downstairs and fighting. The others tried, but we got in each other's way more than we helped."

"Shrinking me was kinda an obvious mistake," Beetle put in her two cents. "I mean, you should have seen that one coming."

Vista laughed, and elaborated, confirming Intrepid's guess that she and Clockblocker had been watching live surveillance of some sort. "Magnidude tried to make her small enough to put in his pocket, which made her just about the right size to hitch a ride on a june bug."

"Those things are _nasty_ ," the jock defended himself. "Anyone would have dropped her when they were being divebombed by twelve of them."

"What was the plan there, anyway?" Beetle asked.

Magnidude shrugged. "You were lighter than I guessed, so you shrunk further than I meant you to."

"So anyway," Flicker continued the tale, smiling, "Beetle gets down to her basement before she's big enough to spot, and the rest of the june bugs fly into the kitchen. When we follow the mass to kitchen, thinking we're following her, she's got bugs swarmed together and more coming all the time so that it's not immediately obvious that she's missing."

"Yeah, laugh it up, Flick," Willow jabbed. "You weren't the one getting webbed."

The Boston Wards all looked over to Beetle at that, and she explained. "I keep black widows in the basement so they can be weaving material when I'm at home. I had to go down and open the aquariums before the rest of the swarm could use the silk. I really thought I was going to make it out of the windows down there, even if I had regrown by that point."

"You would have, except I've got echolocation. I was watching the outside of the house in case you got away. I'm a little surprised you tried to run, though. I mean, you left your dad behind."

"I already knew you weren't interested in the upstairs," Beetle explained. "I had sent alerts to Clockblocker and to the PRT board using the comm system Kid Win set up for me, so I knew help was on the way to the area. I was hoping to get out, get away a bit, and then draw you guys out of the house."

"The ecolocation reminds me," Vista cut in, "we're supposed to make you two guess the power details to see how close you are. We've bent that a little, but let's do it now anyway."

"Beetle," Contract offered, one hand sweeping out.

"Cheater," Clockblocker protested. "I'm pretty sure Beetle has them all pegged already. What do you know?"

"Teleporter, slight delay, weight limit." Contract pointed to Flicker, then to Willow. "Shapeshifter, enhanced strength, durability, possibly mass manipulation." She skipped O'Reilly to point to Hunch, "Martial arts training, thinker."

She stared at Magnidude for a while. "Resizes self and others, possibly a weight limit because I've never seen more than your own mass plus 200 percent but that could also be a fake limit held in reserve. Macro control only, because it's a striker trait but it worked through your gloves and our clothes."

She ignored Weld, and looked over at Beetle, but O'Reilly asked, "And me?"

"Manipulation of sound and through that, air. Winds, occasional directional blasts, and something that messed with Beetle's bugs." Contract sounded particularly unsure, which made sense if she hadn't been able to hear his power for herself. Who knew how her visor had translated the sounds of combat.

"My turn!" Beetle said, excited. She started with Weld, who Contract hadn't faced. "Changer, unusual biology means no requirement to breath. Can reshape self, but not easily, probably from practicing the current form so often. Was able to eliminate his mouth, eyes, and nose but still see. Wasn't hurt by bugs, but was inconvenienced by other metal, to which I sacrificed most of my silverware. Did seem to be inconvenienced by the few bugs I was able to trap within his biology."

Weld nodded, and Beetle moved on to Magnidude. "Definite striker. Mass limitation Contract mentioned, but I think there's a total number of people you can change at one time, too. Also, I noticed there's only one size manipulation happening at one time. So you can make people small, but then you can't do anything else until you release them. When you used your power on yourself to make yourself larger, you couldn't change others' sizes. It let you operate as a brute, but cost you the advantages you have as a striker. In general, the mass seemed to stay proportional to volume, so increasing your size gave you increased durability."

Beetle grinned evilly. "Also, growing increased the size of various passages for my bugs to navigate." Magnidude shuddered, and Intrepid winced in sympathy. Beetle evidently hadn't pulled any punches. "And you didn't drop me in the house - I wriggled out of the sweatshirt I was wearing. Once I wasn't in contact with the cloth in contact with you, I started growing. Barely made it to the basement before I was big enough to be seen."

Hunch whistled. "Damn. Now I see why Clockblocker made Contract start. You're _good_."

"And look alive," Contract stage whispered, "you're next."

Hunch gulped theatrically as Beetle's attention turned his way. "Close-range fighter, but not a brute. Precognition, but it's not very good."

"Clarify," Clockblocker encouraged her.

"He was able to avoid the worst of my traps but not all of them. I theorize it's some sort of warning system, but it can only identify the biggest threat, not all threats."

"Continue," Weld said.

"You've got some sort of connection with your teammates," Beetle mused, thinking aloud. "You could look at them and understand whatever they were about to do, but you didn't the same read on me."

Beetle hesitated, but moved on to O'Reilly. "Serious air wave manipulation. You could do concentrated blasts with very little build up, or strong area-wide gale-force winds with preparation. Plus that weird scream that deafened us and killed my bugs, which I also noticed you could direct with pretty good precision when you took the time to do so. But you can only do one thing at a time. I didn't have the echolocation trick exactly figured out, but I knew there was something hokey going on because there were too many times when you weren't doing something obvious."

"And me?" Willow asked.

"Not done with O'Reilly," Beetle corrected. "You also have an air shield around your body, except when it gets disrupted right at the start of other power uses."

O'Reilly slow clapped. "Very few people figure that out."

Beetle preened, and then moved on to Willow. "Ditto what Contract said. I'd add that you never got thinner than two inches, or thicker than two feet. Extremely enhanced durability when you're shifting around, and you either don't feel pain or you can turn it off."

"Very temporarily," Willow confirmed.

"And me?" Flicker echoed her teammate.

"When you go, you take everything touching you with you. With enough bugs, I could have locked you down, provided you didn't get out of my range first. There's also that thing you did to Intrepid on the roof. My guess is that when you tried to jump with too much weight, you and your passengers black out instead of leaving. O'Reilly didn't lose it and was able to get you two back down to Magnidude, so it's probably something your passengers can build immunity to, but it knocked out Intrepid."

Beetle paused, thinking over everything. "I think that's all."

Vista let out a whistle, and Intrepid joined the rest in applause. "Very good job," Clockblocker congratulated her.

"Functionally correct on all accounts," Weld confirmed.

Contract was beaming up from the floor. "I'm _so_ glad you're my teammate."

"Yes, you are," Magnidude said as he shuddered theatrically. "She's a terror to fight."

"It can't be that bad," Clockblocker protested. Magnidude gave him a dirty look.

"I wonder if we could convince Jouster to try to take her?" Contract mused aloud.

Weld bumped her shoulder. "He's not that bad."

"He's a jock," Contract protested, as though this was a cardinal sin.

"Cheerleader," Intrepid coughed fakely. Clockblocker and Vista's eyes lit up.

"Really?" Vista demanded, turning on Contract.

"Very, very briefly," she insisted, before she turned her stink eye on Intrepid. "See if I ever confide in you again."

"Ready to go to the hospital?" he asked. Maturely, Contract answered by sticking out her tongue.

"Oh yeah, wasn't there a marijuana story you were going to share?" Vista asked. Weld made a point of sticking his fingers in his ears.

Contract bumped him back, and though it was much less effective going in the other direction, Weld removed his hands. "I had two bones sticking through my leg and a ten mile hike between me and the car. What would you have done?"

"Weirdly, that's something I actually kinda want to see," Magnidude admitted. "The Ender, crippled and high. Does that make me a bad person?"

Contract answered the question by pegging his visor with her wadded-up napkin.

"Careful," Beetle warned sagely, "crippled and high can be _arranged_."

Magnidude paled, much to the delight of his female teammates. "Tomorrow, we are totally going guys on girls," Willow crowed.

"That's what she said," Clockblocker said.

Vista smacked his arm, chiding, "You're team leader now."

"So?"

She rolled her eyes helplessly. "So we're going to _crush_ you tomorrow."

"In your dreams," Hunch muttered just loud enough for the room to hear.

"Let's see, that's what, eight girls and nine guys? Seems fair. You guys will need the advantage," Beetle said with mock haughtiness.

"Nine? Where do you get nine guys?" Hunch demanded.

Contract rattled off the rosters. "Magnidude, Weld, O'Reilly, Hunch, Clockblocker, Kid Win, Gallant, Intrepid and Shielder for the guys. And for the girls we have myself, Vista, Beetle, Willow and Flicker, Glory Girl, Panacea, and Laserdream. That's nine dudes and eight dudettes. We're ready if you are."

"Game on," chorused the Boston guys. Intrepid and Clockblocker shared a glance. They'd need to take time tonight after the group broke up and strategize. Maybe call the other Wards and see if Shielder had any insights into New Wave's girls. It wasn't that they couldn't beat the girls… it was just… better to be prepared. Yeah. That sounded right.


	47. Reaching Out

**Chapter Forty-Seven: Reaching Out**

 **April 23, 2011**

By the time the group actually split up, it was past midnight. Beetle offered to go to the hospital with Contract, but Clockblocker ordered her to go home and get some sleep so she could come in early for a full and detailed debriefing before any exercises with New Wave. From the glances they were sharing, Vista and Clockblocker had their own debriefing still waiting later that night, so Intrepid stepped up to take Contract instead.

Contract, of course, made her opinion of a babysitter's necessity very clear, and subsided only when Clockblocker cited Youth Guard regulations requiring a witness.

So it was that 1 AM found Intrepid and Contract sitting in the emergency room, waiting for service. Intrepid had finally changed into his full uniform before flying them both over to the hospital in order to avoid having his civilian face be seen sitting next to Contract. The waiting area was visibly busy, and Contract refused the nurses' attempts to bump her up the triage list based on her status as a Ward, so they might be in for a long wait. Friday night was a busy one for Brockton Bay General.

"Since we're sitting here," Contract ventured, "we should talk about anything I did wrong tonight." Intrepid looked up from his cup of coffee, but she seemed sincere. "I'd rather hear it from you than anyone else."

Intrepid shared her smile, grateful again that he'd heard her out a week earlier. "Overall, you did good."

"Because I didn't kill anyone?"

"Not just that," Intrepid said, preferring to focus on the other successes of the night. He might have jumped the gun a little, overestimating her lethality. "You kept your wits about you. You didn't just fight blindly; you assessed weaknesses and strategized. You were able to bluff your way into a better position and turn your disadvantage of being deaf into an asset."

"I would have lost, if we kept going. Or I would have had to escalate towards more permanent harm, and if they escalated in kind I think they would have gotten me before I eliminated all of them."

"Tonight wasn't about winning," Intrepid reminded her, glad that the general noise level masked their conversation. "It was about establishing a baseline. A test where you score perfectly only establishes a minimum intelligence. If you don't get a couple answers wrong, we don't know where you actually lie."

"What should I have done different?"

"You were worried about keeping them at a distance, which wasn't practical. It was only a matter of time before they closed quarters, as they did. You should have tried to find or build better cover using your telekinesis, instead of using the few pieces of the environment as missiles."

"Force them to come at me the way I wanted, instead of trying to stop the advance all together."

"Yes. When you're outnumbered that badly, you can't count on out-waiting them. You have to find a way to force them to get in each other's way or focus on finding a way out." She blushed, and Intrepid guessed the reason. "You didn't consider retreating."

"Not exactly, no."

Intrepid shrugged. "Part of that is down to me. Normally, as your mover, it's my job to get you off a bad battlefield, but I knew it was an exercise so I didn't evacuate you. Of course, you didn't try to get my attention either."

"I don't know that I would have left if you did try. I don't like leaving enemies around where they can hurt me."

"You've never heard of a strategic retreat?"

"Does such a thing exist when the other team has a teleporter?"

"Ah," Intrepid acknowledged, realizing that Contract wasn't just suffering from tunnel vision. "Flicker isn't quite as omniscient as she appeared. Few teleporters are."

"Sure. But she got into the apartment once."

Intrepid tilted his head. "Point. I still think you should at least consider leaving and choosing better ground. Tonight, the other team had all the initiative and other than your bluff to be taken captive, you didn't do much to change that. If they'd been more careful about making sure you were drugged, that could have gone very badly for you. But I can see why you might not have been willing to retreat in this instance."

He tried to think back to the battle and remember if there was anything else he wanted to say. "Clockblocker and Vista will probably have other commentary, because they had a different perspective. And obviously you should run through this whole thing with Yamada, but I think that's the two biggest things I noticed; your attempt to keep them all at range and your failure to try to retreat. Did you lose the telekinesis?"

"It was in and out, mostly as I worried about where the hell you were and if Magnidude had caught you again. I kept the precognition almost the whole time, though."

"That's an improvement."

She shrugged, but before she could offer her own (probably over harsh) assessment of the status of her powers, her phone vibrated. She had to reach across her body to fish it out of her pocket with her unhurt hand. She tilted the screen towards him so he could see it was an unknown number, but from someone in the PRT based on the area code. She tapped the icon to pick up the call on her visor, but also handed him the phone so he could hear for himself.

"Hello?"

" _Contract? Are you alright?_ " It was a male voice, quiet, but not one he immediately placed.

Contract's forehead scrunched in her familiar what-the-hell expression before her eyebrows shot up. He assumed her visor had found a voice match, but he still couldn't place the familiarity. She glanced around the emergency room before she ground out, "David?"

" _Ah, yes._ " Eidolon coughed with what might have been embarrassment. " _I, ah, needed to talk to you about something and… are you in the hospital?_ "

"I'm fine. What did you need?"

Eidolon paused, and Intrepid and Contract exchanged a heavy glance. " _It would probably be better to talk in person. Do you require healing?_ "

"I'm a little busy, sir," Contract said, her tone far from respectful.

Intrepid gave her look that was supposed to mean, "Let's not antagonize the Endbringer-maker."

Contract rolled her eyes, but she must have understood him, because she did amend her statement, "But as it happens I am waiting to see a doctor, so if you wanted to drop by Brockton Bay General we could talk. Assuming, of course, that you don't mind if Intrepid hears it too."

Intrepid bumped her, but Eidolon seemed more mournful than upset. " _Is that necessary?_ "

"Well, sir, if you drop dead from trying something stupid, I'd like a witness." Intrepid bumped Contract again, harder, and she tacked on, "Plus Clockblocker assigned him to watch me until I see a doctor, so it really is necessary." She looked at him as though for confirmation or agreement, and he nodded. He could understand why she might not like Eidolon particularly, but there was no point to purposefully alienating him.

Eidolon sighed. " _So you are hurt. I don't suppose you'd be willing to let me help you, with a witness?_ "

Contract looked over at Intrepid with her eyebrows raised in question. Intrepid shrugged. He figured the chances of Eidolon trying anything were pretty slim, considering the possible consequences if he did. He still didn't trust his once-superior, not really, but he also didn't think he was likely to try to master Contract. Eidolon had seemed sincerely contrite when they'd seen him last week and hadn't taken offense at Contract's defensiveness.

"Alright, David. You have a deal."

" _I'm in the Pizza Hut across the street._ "

Contract snorted. "Of course you are. We're both a bit conspicuous. Meet you at the bus stop down the road? Shouldn't be anyone else out there at this time of night."

Intrepid glanced around, but no one appeared to be listening. Even so, it was a bit bold to say that out loud. Heroes, especially Contract, had fans as well as enemies. So far, any attempts at pictures had been dissuaded by a glare with the help of hospital security, but it was a minor miracle their location hadn't been leaked to any social media yet.

Contract hung up using her visor controls without waiting for an answer and stood up. Intrepid followed her out the doors as her phone buzzed again. It had a new text from the same PRT number.

 _199-342-5566: Alley behind the Walgreens._

He handed the phone back to her, then looked each way as they darted across the street.

"He's a thinker," Intrepid realized. "You lied, knowing he'd hear it."

"He lied first. There's no Pizza Hut around here." As they checked their surroundings one more time and ducked behind the well-lit 24-hour pharmacy, Intrepid shook his head.

"Plots within plots."

Contract shrugged. "It's a living." He leaned over just a bit, this time bumping her shoulder playfully and got a friendly shove and smile in return. Then they turned the corner, and Eidolon was waiting for them.

Contract's step faltered just a touch, a tiny hint of her trepidation, and her arm brushed Intrepid's. She was establishing their relative positions, reminding herself exactly where he was, using his presence to give her the strength to keep walking. Despite her tone, she wasn't taking this lightly.

By some unspoken concert, they both stopped about five feet from Eidolon, close enough to talk but not to touch. Six months ago, Intrepid would have been awed to be standing here. Now, he was alert and curious, with a mild dose of condemnation for the man he'd once seen as his ultimate hero.

"What did you need to discuss?" Contract demanded.

Eidolon looked at them both for a moment, and Intrepid thought he could feel the cape's thinker power on his skin as it evaluated him. "Coil's power," Eidolon said eventually. "Armsmaster thought you might have a theory you hadn't been able to prove, before he died."

Contract didn't answer him immediately. After a long moment, she turned her head just slightly towards Intrepid. Though he couldn't see through her visor, he got the sense that she was still looking at Eidolon, but she wanted it to be clear that she was addressing her teammate.

"Why would the Triumvirate care about the mechanics of a power belonging to a dead cape? Particularly when the investigation has already ruled that the death was a suicide, and that all actions against that cape were warranted?"

Intrepid wasn't a thinker, but it didn't take him long to understand Contract's meaning. She'd said the Triumvirate, not Eidolon, but she meant Mordor. Coil's death had been investigated quickly, too quickly not that he thought about it, and the Wards' sting had been authorized with barely an objection. The PRT had gone through the motions, but not with the fire Intrepid had expected based on his past experience with them. Why?

Because the Chief Director had signed off on it. The Chief Director who was also Alexandria and probably a member of Mordor, or at least a willing accomplice to Legend who was. Why would Mordor care about Coil? Because he wasn't dead. And if he wasn't dead, hadn't escaped, and hadn't been tried, then he was being held elsewhere. By Mordor, presumably.

Eidolon managed to shuffle his feet in a way that indicated disapproval. Intrepid hadn't known that was possible, with the large cowl and cloak that hid so much of his body. Eidolon had always been unreadable, inscrutable, before New York. Intrepid wondered if he was better at reading him, if Eidolon was projecting his body language, or if it was just a matter of seeing the other cape as a real person, rather than idolizing him.

Contract turned her head the two inches necessary to face Eidolon fully once again. "Intrepid is no one's idiot," she defended fiercely. "He'd figure it out without any prompting as soon as we were done here and he thought it through, maybe sooner. I'm just keeping him up to speed as we go along. You agreed to have him here."

Eidolon nodded, conceding the point. "Coil's power?" he asked again, still gently polite. "We'd appreciate anything you know."

"I assume you have my report about the coin flips?" Contract asked. Eidolon nodded. "And my discussion of his use of the name Sophie was also included in my interview transcripts. What more do you want from me?"

"You've told us all the facts. What does your gut say?"

Contract's lips disappeared into a thin line as she evaluated Eidolon. Intrepid took that to mean that whatever she'd guessed of Coil's power related to her supernatural past. "Answer one question for me, honestly, and I'll tell you my theory. Not why I believe it, but what I believe."

Eidolon spread his hands. "Ask."

"Do you, personally, believe this information might help you save the world?"

Eidolon's spine got straighter, and he leaned back just slightly.

"I think you surprised him, Contract," Intrepid commented. "We're not in danger, are we?" It was half mocking, but also half a warning to Contract. He didn't know how much Mordor knew they knew, and he didn't want her to give anything away accidentally. Her hand closed the tiny gap between them, brushing the back of his hand for just a moment. Message received.

"No, you're not in danger," Eidolon stated emphatically, for whatever that reassurance was worth. "I've shut down the think tank investigating you, Contract, and if you ever hear of it reappearing you call me and I'll shut it down again. You're not a threat to us, not if you understand what we're working towards."

"I understand what you're trying to do. No idea what kind of _progress_ you're making. But you didn't answer me. Is there any sign at all that knowing my theory will help?"

"Yes. I wouldn't be here if there wasn't."

"I believe Coil is manipulating time in some fashion. I thought it might be that he's looping: letting time run normally, and then sending his conscious backwards and reliving some period of time to achieve a better outcome. Possibly repeating it more than once, or going back further and further depending on the threat.

"Having made a number of diagrams surrounding the events on April 9th and 10th, I'm not so certain that is the case, but I do still think it's time-related. Maybe he's foreseeing futures and limiting which ones are possible, pruning away time branches that don't work for him, getting rid of worst case scenarios. Maybe he's just getting information from close-neighboring time branches, and exploiting it. The last is the most probable given the results we've observed, but the most difficult to manage from an energy and physics standpoint. If those restriction mean anything when it comes to powers."

"Thank you." Eidolon cleared his throat uncomfortably. "May I heal you?"

"For the record, you understand the risk to yourself if you try to influence me in any way?"

"Yes."

"Do your worst," she dared him.

Eidolon stepped forward, one hand outstretched. After a long moment, Contract met him halfway. There was no visible effect, but Eidolon dropped her hand only seconds later and lifted his own left arm gingerly. It seemed he'd absorbed Contract's injuries rather than healing them wholesale.

Contract stepped back sharply, ending up so close to Intrepid that their shoulders were touching. She swallowed heavily, but offered one last thought to Eidolon. "If Coil _is_ a precog rather than a time manipulator, he's good. _Very_ good. I'd be willing to bet that he doesn't have any blind spots. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, I do." Contract answered him with a sharp nod, but before they could retreat Eidolon spoke again. "You have my number now. You can call me any time. I will never be able to repay you for what you did."

"You're right, you won't. But I'll never not be wary of you."

In response, Eidolon reached up and pulled down his hood. The green glow which normally filled his hood and cape faded as the fabric dropped, and Intrepid and Contract were left looking at an unassuming middle aged man, with thin hair and unremarkable features.

Contract nodded sharply again, then turned on her heel and walked away. Intrepid walked backwards for two steps, watching Eidolon's unmoving form, before he passed the edge of the building and turned to follow Contract. She hadn't even made it out of the alley between the Walgreens and whatever was on its other side.

She was leaning back against the wall, watching Intrepid approach.

"That just happened," she whispered.

"No shit. Did you ask him to do that? Some sort of secret signal that he thinkered out?"

"No. I had no idea that was coming. No idea."

Intrepid nodded. He hadn't thought so, but it was better to just ask rather than assume. "He sounded sincere. If that means anything."

"I agree. He didn't seem to be lying, but he did know I was in Brockton Bay General, and he got here really fast."

"Teleporter," Intrepid reminded her and she grimaced.

"Oh yeah. I forgot."

Intrepid actually laughed at that. "Only you." She laughed with him, but still didn't straighten up. Intrepid looked back around the corner, but Eidolon wasn't visible any more. "Can I ask you something? If it's too sensitive, just say so, but it's been bugging me since I noticed it."

"Shoot."

"About you not being mastered. You told Eidolon and Armsmaster that it was your own subconscious that would protect you, but when you mentioned it to the Wards you said powerful forces would intervene."

"It's both. My subconscious is constantly trying to make deals, and I have to consciously restrain that pressure from getting out. If I was mastered, and that fact was whispered to my subconscious by powerful forces, the very act of being mastered would decrease the control of my conscious over my subconscious. The perfect storm."

"Your power is auto-on," he realized.

"Yeah, and auto-stupid. It jumps to ridiculously high costs. My subconscious always overshoots the mark. I have to hold it back from overspending, or from implementing a deal at all in most cases."

"You can do anything with enough death," Intrepid recalled.

Contract shuddered. "Let's talk about something else." Her brow creased. "You got to that conclusion _fast_. Auto-on. I thought I was going to have to spell it out."

"I'm auto-on too. That's why I dodge up."

She chucked again. "That makes me feel better."

"It should. I'm awesome." He flexed his muscles mockingly, hamming up the joke. Contract's laughing increased until she had to hold her breath to regain her cool.

When they were both sober, she pushed off the wall and he picked her up to fly her back home. "You are, you know," she told him as they lifted off. He gave her a questioning look, and she clarified. "You are awesome."

* * *

"Okay, I'm making it official: Beetle is never allowed to go darkside!"

Clockblocker's declaration kicked off another round of laughter. Kid Win, who had been laying on the ground recovering from a mad sprint, reached up high enough to punch Clockblocker's knee.

"Is that a surrender?" Vista demanded sweetly.

Intrepid groaned, joined by most of the other male Wards. "God, yes!" Magnidude shouted, as Vista just smiled at Clockblocker, still maintaining her faux innocence.

"You sure?" Beetle giggled. "We've still got a few things in waiting in the wings…"

"And no more bad puns!" Hunch and Gallant insisted in unison, for the fourth or fifth time that morning.

There was a knock on the door, and Glory Girl poked her head around the edge of the doorframe. "We interrupting?" Her sister and cousins followed her out of the stairwell. The Wards had chosen to stage today's practices on the second-highest story of the parking lot that had once served the Ferry. It was covered in graffiti, abandoned, open, and deserted.

Flicker and Willow had taken the girl versus guy challenge quite seriously, and had gotten Beetle up early to start gathering her swarm and creating traps. Further, Contract had actually listened to Intrepid's advice from the night before and had capitalized on every inch of cover and debris the garage had to offer. With those advantages, the girls had pretty much wiped the floor with the boys, even though they were at a significant numerical disadvantage without New Wave.

"No! Not interrupting at all," Clockblocker exclaimed, hopping off the ledge he'd been perched on while the teams recovered from their "warm-up" encounter. "Please, come on in. Let me introduce you!"

"Laserdream, Glory Girl, Shielder, Panacea," O'Reilly rattled off, gesturing appropriately. "Boston isn't that far from Brockton Bay, you know," he told Clockblocker.

"Ignore O'Reilly," Weld told them, walking over to introduce himself. "He's had a crush on Shielder since forever. I'm Weld. That's O'Reilly, and Willow is the one smacking him."

"I object! I resemble that comment!" O'Reilly protested Weld's ribbing.

Flicker rolled her eyes and she joined her leader. "Flicker. Teleporter. And Magnidude is around here somewhere."

"He's still hiding behind the far elevator hut," Beetle mused. "Can't imagine why."

"Wait until you've seen a wasp at a thousand times magnification. You'll understand," Flicker told her dryly. Beetle shrugged, as New Wave finished shaking the hands of the Wards that had chosen to come over.

"So you got started without us?" Glory Girl demanded.

Gallant had drawn close, though not as close as he would have been if the Boston Wards hadn't been watching. "One round only, if you can even call it that."

Shielder shrugged. "It's fine, we were just surprised. What's the plan?"

"We were thinking…" Weld started, before realizing that Magnidude still hadn't emerged from his hiding place. "Mag, get your ass over here!"

"PR!" Flicker and Willow chorused together. Weld winced.

"Oh, do tell," Contract said from where she was still sitting on top of the long-abandoned pickup truck that dominated the middle of the garage floor.

"PR is grooming Weld for big things, eventually," Willow stage whispered, "which means that we've been tasked with cleaning up his language."

"Coming, boss," Magnidude grumbled.

"As I was saying, we were thinking that the best use of our time might be to split into multiple smaller encounters. It's pretty rare that you get 17 capes in one area, let alone one fight-"

"-Unless the Empire decides to turn out in force. Which isn't impossible," Contract interrupted, "especially considering." Clockblocker cleared his throat, and she raised her hands in surrender. "Not saying splitting up is a bad plan, just observing the current political climate."

"Thanks for that, by the way," Laserdream muttered, and it was Shielder's turn to clear his throat. Intrepid felt his hackles start to rise, but Laserdream just rolled her eyes and fell silent.

Well, this was going to be a fun day.

* * *

They ran a large number of drills, split up by team, by specialty, by experience, and by gender. There were two short one-loss elimination tournaments, one with a single-touch win and one with three-second hold. Clockblocker won the first by virtue of his practice as a striker, and Willow easily took the second. Magnidude had the best combined score, coming in third under both criteria.

Throughout the whole day, Contract did a lot of watching. Her knives never made an appearance, and whenever she was eliminated she went over to the sidelines, sat next to Panacea, and observed the action with narrowed eyes.

Late in the afternoon, the movers engaged in a cross-city race. Intrepid begged out on account of the wrist he'd just sprained. Clockblocker gave him a _look_ , but allowed it as he counted down the others. Laserdream, Glory Girl, and Shielder each shot off at each of their maximum speeds, and Flicker started teleporting from sight-point to sight-point as fast as possible. Vista warped space to follow her, keeping up nearly as well as Kid Win's hoverboard.

The rest of the Wards were engaged in a complex game of keep away, leaving only Contract and Intrepid sitting next to Panacea.

Panacea glanced at him, but didn't offer to heal his wrist and Intrepid didn't ask her to. If he'd really wanted to race he could have, but he was tired of Laserdream's subtle and not-so-subtle posturing. It had been a physically grueling day without worrying about politics. With a top speed at or above 50 mph, no load, and familiarity with the city, Intrepid knew he could have put in a good fight for first place, but couldn't decide if winning was worth, well, having won.

Contract glanced at the wrist as well, but didn't say anything.

"I'm fine," he told her, mostly for something to say.

Contract blinked at him. "Of course you are. It isn't even swelling, so you won't have to make up an excuse for your secret identity."

"You don't need to be sitting with me," he insisted. He made shooing motions with his hands, which Contract ignored. "Go play keep away."

"Hunch is going to win," she said shrugging.

Intrepid glanced over at the madly dashing Wards, but no one was even out of the running yet. "You sure?"

"I'd put five bucks on it." She continued watching, assessing and learning. After Clockblocker froze Magnidude she turned away from the action and looked at Panacea. "Can I ask you something, as Amy?"

Panacea looked startled at being addressed. Intrepid wasn't sure why she'd even come along with her family. Though she'd participated in a couple of the events, it had been half-hearted and sporadic. "What is it?"

"How do you handle being a healer?" Panacea's face shut down, and Contract hurried on. "I only ask, because… well, you see, when I figured out I could do some healing, I just about killed myself trying to help people. I went days without sleeping, I couldn't find the time to shower or eat, I literally ran myself off my feet. And I had clear limits to every healing I wanted to do. I hated myself for every judgement call, every person I couldn't save. I was damn near suicidal over it. If my family hadn't stepped in and forced me to stop, I probably would have… I don't even know what might have happened."

Contract stopped, but Panacea didn't seem to know how to answer her. She wasn't upset anymore, but she was sort of blank. Hesitantly, Contract continued. "I, I'm asking because you seem to have it all figured out. You've somehow managed to separate Amy and Panacea, and… if I knew how to do that… maybe I could help more people. Save more people."

Panacea looked away, watching the game. Contract cleared her throat uncomfortably and whispered, "Sorry. That was personal. I shouldn't have asked."

They sat in awkward silence while Hunch won the exercise. Kid Win returned, having given up on completing the race after he fell behind even Vista, and the Wards started a new round.

"Your family forced you to stop?" Panacea asked a bit later, out of the blue. Intrepid looked over at her, but both she and Contract were still staring straight ahead.

"Yes. I… I don't get to heal for free. The very nature of my healing tells you something about how much I care about what I'm doing. The more I healed… it got really tangled up. I wanted to save people in the abstract, I never stopped wanting to save more lives. But the people themselves started to seem unreal. I saw so many, and the healing cost me so much, that I started to resent the individual cases. Healing got cheaper as I got more confused, and my family noticed. I hid it for as long as I could; I wanted to be the sort of person that could just give selflessly forever, I wanted to be that good, but… it just wasn't possible."

Intrepid carefully kept his breathing even. Contract was very close to telling Panacea a number of things that had been declared classified. Technically, they were her secrets to give away, but it was still nerve wracking to sit there and listen.

"My… Ash… saw what was happening. He staged an intervention and locked me in a room with no outside contact until I came to my senses. He told me that it wasn't my responsibility to keep them alive. He tried to explain that death was a part of life and I couldn't hold it back forever. It took me a long time to start to believe him. I was grateful, that he'd taken the choice out of my hands, but I hated that I was grateful to him while people were still out there dying.

"After I got my head on straight, I tried to have a balance - go back to healing and to my normal life, but I got burned out even faster the second time. I made a mistake, a bad mistake, worse because it wasn't _really_ an accident. I finally had to swear off healing all together except in the rare exception."

Contract sighed, but still didn't look away from the play-fighting. "I don't mean to dump all that on your shoulders: my problems are my problems. I know that, and I would never ask you to fix them. I just… I don't know. Like I said, I shouldn't have brought it up."

Panacea didn't respond immediately, but she did eventually speak. "Your mistake…"

Contract answered the implied question in a detached tone. "A friend brought his father to me. He wasn't dying, but he'd never walk again. We didn't have a good relationship, the patient and I. He'd left me for dead once, to save his own life, and never apologized for it. He didn't even want me to heal him, at first, and it wasn't until his son begged him to reconsider that he let me in the room. Like I should be honored to give him back his legs.

"I didn't have to even touch him to heal him, not really, but I wanted to. I knew he'd be uncomfortable to be touched by a parahuman, and I wanted that tiny bit of satisfaction. Somehow, I didn't expect him to flinch. I should have, but I didn't. It struck me hard. I asked him how much it was worth to him, to walk again. He wouldn't even look at me, let alone answer. I healed him anyway, physically, at least. My control slipped and there were… side effects. It was an accident; I didn't _mean_ for it to happen, it just sort of… But that doesn't excuse it. I spent a lot of time, afterward, trying to make up for what I did."

"You wanted money?" Panacea asked, somehow keying on the question she'd asked her victim, rather than the terrifying implications of how she'd answered his silence. Intrepid didn't want to judge her when there were obviously a wealth of details she wasn't saying, but it almost sounded like… maybe… she'd mastered someone.

"I wanted a friggin' _please_ ," she replied, all impassiveness gone, even though she still didn't look at Panacea. "I wanted him to see me as human enough to be worth that much courtesy."

The two girls sat in silence for a moment, staring unseeingly at the physical drama happening just feet away, before Contract explained further. "I mean, yeah, I did charge for my services back when I was healing. I had to if I wanted to eat, but from him I just wanted acknowledgement. To be honest, the money was the only thing that kept me sane as long as I was. Knowing that people cared about what I was doing, that it was valuable to them; that helped me, emotionally. And it was a good way to keep people from just abusing my power. None of that was enough, in the end, but it held off the darkness."

"I wish I could help," Panacea whispered. Contract turned to look at her, slowly. After a couple seconds, Panacea looked back at her. Something passed between the two heroes that Intrepid couldn't understand, and then Contract put her arm around Panacea. That's where they were sitting a minute and a half later when Glory Girl came rocketing back into the garage. Panacea got up to congratulate her sister, and left Contract and Intrepid sitting side by side.

"Being a hero sucks," Contract said emphatically. Intrepid looked from the returning racers, flushed with excitement and childish joy, to the faces of Panacea, faking excitement, and Contract, faking detachment. The two healers were old, worn, and Intrepid found he didn't have a good response for her.

Contract hopped off the ledge, landing lightly on the balls of her feet. "Come on, we should make the most of this time to practice."

* * *

Author's note: this chapter is improved and influenced by the delightful, the dedicated, the perceptive... SlowMercury!


	48. Sleepover

**Chapter Forty-Eight: Sleepover**

 **April 23, 2011**

"We totally should!" Flicker agreed, a little louder than Taylor would have preferred.

"We can kick the boys out and use the main conference area. Should be plenty of room," Missy planned aloud, while Willow nodded eagerly.

Just as Taylor had feared, the air of excitement caught Laserdream's attention. "You girls cookin' something up?" Like Emma, Laserdream seemed to have an innate understanding of the social climate around her. It had been too much to hope she and Glory Girl might head home before the Wards' plans drew their attention - not when Panacea and Fi were having some sort of quiet discussion that seemed to involve enthusiastic hand-waving.

"Girl's night," Willow told her smugly.

As expected, Laserdream's face lit up and she motioned for Glory Girl to join her. Taylor scrambled for something to say - anything really - to discourage her, but couldn't come up with anything that wouldn't be terribly rude. "I like it," Laserdream said, before explaining to Glory Girl in an aside, "The Wards are going to have a sleepover in the base."

"Perfect! I'll text the parents."

Glory Girl immediately began tapping on her phone, even as Laserdream advised, "Tell them we'll head over to the base after patrol so they don't think we're trying to ditch out on it. Mom wasn't super pleased with losing us all day to training, and Shielder promised we'd do the rush hour patrol to make up for it."

Glory Girl stopped texting long enough to give her cousin an incredulous look. "An hour?"

"After which, we get a sleepover," Laserdream reminded her. Glory Girl scrunched her nose, but didn't argue further.

"What do we want to do for dinner?" Flicker asked. "Anything in Brockton Bay we need to try before we leave?"

"Fugly Bob's?" Taylor offered cautiously. She'd been meaning to go by the place anyway. She wanted to know if her super-powered appetite was a match for the Challenger.

"Not burgers," Willow protested. "We always order burgers."

"We can get takeout from Li Sung's?" Missy suggested. "It's basically just Chinese food, but it is owned by a local family."

"I'm game," Flicker agreed. "Objections?"

Laserdream didn't look totally happy, but everyone else was nodding, so she didn't speak up.

"I'll make the call," Fi said from behind Taylor. She and Panacea had evidently been near long enough to understand the gist of what was going on. Fi turned to Panacea even as she dug her phone out of her pocket for show, disguising the fact that the call would be routed through her visor. "Since I assume you won't be out on patrol, would you like a ride straight to the base?"

Panacea shifted uncomfortably. "Vicky can drop me off at Brockton General and pick me up on her way afterwards."

Fi hesitated a moment, then nodded. "Sounds good. See you in a couple hours then." Panacea nodded back at her, and Taylor tuned their goodbyes out to focus back on the rest of the group. Missy was encouraging the Boston Wards to pick up their luggage and head straight for the base, even though she was going to run home and get nail polish and other supplies for the evening.

Taylor split her attention between the bare-bones planning happening in front of her, and the tactile pad hiding in her storage compartment. It had originally been part of an armored glove, but Kid Win had repurposed it into a comm system for her. The screen was sensitive enough to detect the pressure from a small bee, and so combined with a little reprogramming, Taylor now had a discreet way to communicate. She used the system now to send an email to her dad at work, asking if there was any chance he'd be able to come pick her up and shuttle her around for a bit.

She couldn't wait until she found some way to game her powers into increasing her mobility.

* * *

"You okay?" Missy asked as they stood in line to pick up the Chinese food. "You're quieter."

"Been awhile since my last girl's night," Taylor confided. Truth be told, this was not the circumstances under which she would have wished to revive the experience.

"All the more reason to do it, right?" Despite the words, Missy's tone was hesitant. She knew Taylor well enough to know something was up.

"Crystal is going to spend the whole night griping," Taylor replied, remember to use Laserdream's civilian name, since neither she nor Missy was in costume, and the girl's hero identity might encourage eavesdroppers. "I was looking forward to it when it was just us… but with them too? Not so much."

They'd be lucky to get through the night with even a guise of civility, if the earlier moods were anything to go by. Fi had done an amazing job of letting Laserdream's attitude just roll off her back, but Taylor knew how grating it was to have someone constantly picking at you. Just because she was being stoic and taking the higher road didn't mean that the comments didn't hurt.

So far, Taylor had managed a civil relationship with the other Wards, and much more than that with Missy, Jason and Fi. The movie night, although disastrous in the end, had gone pretty well up until the Simurgh intervened. She pessimistically hoped tonight wouldn't be as bad as that.

Missy shrugged uncomfortably as the line moved forward by one person. "Sorry, I didn't realize. You could have said something?" Missy offered in a questioning tone.

Taylor shifted her weight, equally unsettled. "With them standing right there?"

Missy winced as she remembered. "Still, it's better to have it out at a sleepover than the next time we see them be in the field, isn't it? Better not to let this stuff fester?" The line moved forward again.

Taylor didn't answer immediately, but Missy waited stubbornly. Finally, Taylor said, "Not sure a sleepover is the best way to mitigate the damage. What are we supposed to do? Watch movies the whole time?"

"There's some board games we keep around base for killing time."

"Anything that we can get eight girls to all agree to?" Taylor asked pointedly.

Missy shrugged again. "I guess we fall back on classics. Paint our nails, gossip a little, maybe play Truth or Dare."

Taylor groaned. "No. Absolutely not."

"Relax," Missy assured her. "I know how to make it harmless. If you get everyone to write out the questions and dares before the game starts, and then draw randomly, it's usually pretty safe. The questions have to be general, and the dares can't be too embarrassing because you don't know who will get them."

Taylor considered that. It would certainly make the game safer, if not totally secure. Still, there had to be better options. "We could play poker, if you guys have chips?"

"We do, but that's not the best idea." Missy glanced around as the line move forward again. "Vicky will want to play for money."

"Oh." Yeah, not happening. At all. "Primping and movies it is, then." And she'd have to make sure she stuck by Fi. There was no reason to believe that Laserdream would be any better behaved tonight than she had been all day, and no reason to leave her to fend for herself. Missy could play hostess, since this was her idea.

"Sorry," Missy muttered. "I get that this isn't your first choice for the evening. But sometimes politics are necessary."

"What she said today wasn't politics. It was flat-out bullying," Taylor disagreed.

Missy shrugged. "I know. I get it. You think Sophia didn't give me my fair share of shit? The point isn't that what she's doing is okay. The point is that we don't have much choice. We need to be able to work with her in the future. We need to show she doesn't intimidate us. We need to try to be friendly."

"Letting her walk all over us isn't going to make us a more cohesive unit," Taylor countered.

"So we stand up for ourselves." Missy plowed on when Taylor would have argued, "Look, this isn't like the schoolyard, not exactly. Crystal is going to push until Fi snaps back. And then she's going to back down. If you want to snap at her first, you can. She's testing boundaries. I prefer to just let stuff like this slide past unanswered. I feel like ignoring it's the most elegant answer I can give. I'm not witty or good at retorts. If you don't want to play it that way, that's your call. I'll back it."

The man in front of them put his wallet back in his pocket and the girls stepped up to the counter.

"Pick up for Sarah?" Missy asked the cashier, using the name Fi had ordered and paid with. While Missy dealt with signing for the food and requesting extra napkins, Taylor thought over what she'd said. It put the afternoon in a different light, knowing that Missy was purposefully distaining Laserdream's criticisms with her silence. It had seemed, from the outside, like she just hadn't realized or cared what was going on. But looking back, Laserdream had been a little more subdued around Missy. Had the other hero known that Missy wasn't impressed with her posturing? Could Taylor achieve the same cool silence? Did she want to?

Taylor had eventually turned to silence in the face of Emma's manipulations and humiliations, not daring to give her one-time friend any new ammunition. But she associated that tactic with lesser defeats, not any sort of victory. After months of forced pacifism, Taylor's gut reaction was to say no, she didn't want that. Maybe for Missy silence was defiance, but Taylor would much rather speak her mind. If she could muster the courage to do so. It was incongruously easier deal with a physical assault than a social one.

The kidnapping the night before had actually shaken her much less than she would have thought, if she'd been asked to predict her own reaction. Missy had been surprised by her nonchalance as well, when they'd debriefed that morning. It was hard to put her finger on why, exactly, she wasn't more upset.

Was it that she'd sensed from the beginning that there was something insincere about the attack? She'd noticed their avoidance of the upstairs and their reluctance to wake her father almost immediately, and had even used it against them by drawing them out of the house and into the reach of the greater portion of her swarm.

Perhaps it was the genuine camaraderie that had come afterwards, when they were eating in Fi's apartment. Maybe it was just how well she'd been able to hold her own and adapt to the various threats. She'd gotten to try out several of her traps and develop two new ones. She'd tested some of Kid Win's equipment and found that she really like the pill-bugs. It was a very simple idea - to literally "bug" her opponents to better track them as they came in and out of her range - but it had worked marvelously well against Flicker and Willow both.

Missy handed her two bags of Chinese food, breaking her out of her self-assessment, and they headed out of the shop together.

"Which truck is your dad's?" Missy asked, even as Taylor was already headed over to the vehicle.

"Not a truck," Taylor corrected.

"Huh. I could have sworn I saw one outside your house."

"That's Ryan's from the down the street. He thinks if he parks over a couple houses no one will notice that he skips school." She slid across the back seat, putting the food next to her so she could buckle in. She used the bug-pad in her backpack to text Fi, letting her know they were en-route.

"Fun plans tonight, ladies?" her dad asked as they pulled into traffic.

"The usual," Missy explained without explaining anything at all.

"Eating contest?" he guessed.

"Dad!" Taylor protested the bad joke. "Come on!"

He chuckled, but didn't press the question. It was a silent and somewhat awkward side to the PRT base. Danny knew that the girl in his backseat was a Ward. Clearly, she wasn't Contract, which meant that she was Vista. However, even knowing just this much was a huge sign of trust. Taylor didn't take that lightly, and had explained the importance of secret identities to her dad in great detail.

Partial reveals like the one the Wards had done to Jason's family, or to the Boston Wards, were rare- rarer than seemed to be really practical. Taylor had been assured at great length that the Boston Wards did not actually know where her house was. Though they wouldn't explain exactly how Flicker's teleportation worked, everyone had been quite insistent that her identity was in tact, and that Flicker would not be able to return to the house. It had been that sincerity and concern that had finally led to Taylor deciding to show her face to the Boston Wards.

Missy had only shown her face to Taylor's dad as a sign of her trust and friendship. While it helped that they could spend time together after school, carpool to the PRT base, and talk in somewhat-vague details, Missy had explained that these considerations alone would not have prompted her to trust Danny if she didn't already completely trust Taylor. Taylor, in turn, had impressed the gravity of the situation on Danny, who had been both relieved for Taylor's sake and a little intimidated by the seriousness. All of which contributed to the current awkwardness.

Finally, they approached the PRT building. As soon as she was in range, Taylor sorted through the details of her swarm, left unwatched in her lab all day while she practiced with the Wards.

The feeding groups were doing pretty good. These were the most common bugs, the flies and mosquitoes and other pests that made up the bulk of her swarm. She had ten huge aquariums for them to help prevent the spread of disease and regularly replenished the masses with new blood.

The go-groups were not faring as well. The idea was to have crates of insects ready to be loaded at a moment's notice, should she need them, but the air-tight containers were tough on the bugs caught in them. She'd exchanged and shuffled the bugs only a day ago, and already nearly a third of the ones she'd prepped were dead. Reluctantly, she manipulated the control bugs to open the go-crates and freshened the swarm from the feeding groups.

Her breeding programs were not quite as disappointing, but weren't too promising either. It had been Kid Win's idea to try to breed better bugs, with the idea that the short life span and thus short breeding cycles of bugs should let her specialize quickly. That had not proven to be strictly correct. She'd driven around Brockton Bay in a huge van, collecting any bug that seemed to be particularly hardy or useful - a spider that was spinning faster, a beetle that was stronger, a bee with stronger senses - and had eventually collected quite the 'elite' swarm.

But two weeks of breeding later, keeping the strongest of each pool and moving the weaker half of the populations into the feeding groups, wasn't showing much improvement. She was running out of breeding pool and they were becoming inbred faster than she was seeing improvements in the new generations. She directed a mass of bugs from her feeding groups into the breeding aquariums regardless, keeping the stock well-fed and encouraging them to breed again.

Perhaps it was time to re-think the execution of that idea.

"Having fun?" Missy asked as the car drove into the underground parking structure.

Taylor looked up, not even realizing she had zoned out. Quickly, she lifted the bags off her lap, startled that she hadn't noticed just how warm they were. "Sorry."

"It's fine. I know the look of a tinker lost in her work when I see it."

"I'm not a tinker," Taylor grumbled. The team had laughed when Fi told them her theory about Taylor's versatility, and seemed to derive a particular enjoyment from comparing her to every and any power classification.

"Same principle," Missy insisted. Her smile was soft, though, and took any possible sting out of the jibe. Taylor smiled back ruefully. In spite of their age gap, it was surprisingly easy to be Missy's friend. She was strong and confident, but didn't need to assert herself constantly to prove it to anyone. She was older than she seemed at first - perhaps because of her parents' divorce, or maybe just from being a Ward for so long - which helped close their physical age gap.

She was also surprisingly sensible, almost unshakable really. She didn't try to lead or assert herself often, but whenever she spoke the rest of the team listened. When they were just in private, the two of them, Taylor found she was easy to talk to. In some ways, she was almost too personable, so that Taylor was sometimes reminded a bit of Madison. Then Missy would laugh - the only sound she made that seemed actually appropriate for a thirteen-year-old girl - and the similarity would fade away.

The car pulled up next to the elevator. "You two be good," her dad instructed.

"Yes, Mr. Hebert."

"Bye, Dad."

They carefully climbed out of the car, keeping the bags upright, and Missy used her hip to call the elevator. As they watched him pull away, Missy broke the silence.

"You've got a pretty cool dad."

"I know."

"Can I ask you something?"

Taylor nodded, even though she had a pretty good idea of what was coming. Whenever Missy used that super-sensitive tone, she was about to ask something about the bullying campaign.

"Why didn't you ever tell him?"

"What could he have done?" Taylor asked rhetorically. Missy sighed, but didn't protest. Taylor elaborated, "It would have only made him miserable. And angry. He might seem mellow, but he's got a temper when provoked. Boston's lucky they didn't wake him."

"I was a little surprised he didn't say anything. That's a lot of self-restraint."

Taylor didn't look at Missy - she didn't think she reacted at all, not even looking away, really - but her teammate somehow guessed the truth.

"Unless he doesn't know."

"Like I said, he was asleep," Taylor deflected as the elevator arrived. They got in, keyed the appropriate floor, and Taylor ducked down to scan her retina.

Missy didn't drop the subject. "You haven't told him?"

"I've barely seen him," Taylor protested.

"Are you going to tell him?" Missy asked, more curious than accusatory.

Taylor didn't answer, knowing that would be enough for Missy. Instead of lecturing, the other girl just sighed again. "I get it. I didn't tell my parents about Coil. It's just… he's trying, you know? That counts for something."

It was Taylor's turn to let out a whooshing breath. "I know." Missy's home life was… well, it was what it was. But there was a reason that the two were hanging out at Taylor's whenever they could both manage it.

Missy's elbow bumped Taylor's in a brief moment of camaraderie, and they shared a smile as the elevator doors opened.

The Boston Wards had already arrived, and were helping Fi make the last of the arrangements. They'd dragged the Wards' personal desk chairs out into the conference room, re-aligned the surveillance monitors and stacked the unwanted furniture against the far wall. The room felt a little cramped, since the conference table still took up significant floor space from its position in the corner, but it could have been worse.

Missy and Taylor made their way over to the table and started unloading the food. It smelled heavenly, and Taylor wondered if it would be too terribly rude to eat while they waited for New Wave.

"Wow. Are we preparing for siege?" Flicker asked, taking in the ever-growing array of Chinese boxes.

"I wasn't sure what people wanted," Fi deflected from the far side of the room. "Whatever we don't eat can just go in the fridge for us to snack on while on monitor duty."

"Yeah. Sure," Willow agreed, eyeing the table. It _was_ a little excessive - Fi had ordered eight boxes of main dishes, two sides of rice, three of chow mein, and a large stir-fry veggie bowl to top it off. Each box probably could have fed two high school boys or five high school girls. From their point of view, Contract seemed to think a sleepover of eight girls would be eating fifty servings of food. In reality, Taylor would probably eat a box on her own, and Missy would be about the same. Fi would eat for ten or twelve people, since she hadn't eaten all day, and would eat that much again in the middle of the night.

Taylor shrugged rather than try to say anything further. Better just to play it off as an eccentricity than protest too much.

"Any word from New Wave?" Missy asked unnecessarily. She was the one they were most likely to contact when they were on their way.

"Not yet," Flicker answered her. "Where do you guys keep the games? I figured I go ahead and pull them out."

Taylor, remembering Missy's warning about Glory Girl and poker, asked mildly, "Won't we want to eat first?"

"I will," Willow agreed. "The exercises today were something else!"

"Really useful, though," Flicker said. "When we get together with NYC, it's usually more organized. We've got obstacle courses and stuff we go through. I liked the more fluid stuff today. Get more out of it, you know?"

"Easier to target what you need to work on," Taylor supplied.

"Exactly!" Flicker crowed. Taylor was just grateful she didn't blush. The instant camaraderie that the Boston Wards had extended to her was nice, and helped soothe any lingering sting over her kidnapping, but it still surprised her.

Willow sat down in one of the re-arranged seats, and Flicker for some reason decided to sit on her lap rather than claim her own. "I certainly wouldn't mind coming back in a month or two. It would be good to mix up training a little more."

"I would have thought the New York team was big enough to keep you on your toes," Fi observed mildly.

"They participate on an opt-in basis, and since they get a lot more training between their various sub-teams we kinda tend to see the same faces over and over again," Willow explained.

"Why isn't this stuff more common?" Taylor asked the question that had occurred to her early that morning. "It seems super useful."

"It is," Missy assured, "now that the city's so quiet. Before January we really didn't have time for this sort of work. And you tended to get all the training you needed on the job."

Taylor thought back over her time as a Ward. "Quiet" wasn't really the word she would have chosen for it. Between the Endbringers and Coil, it seemed like they'd been unusually busy.

"Plus it means giving up a weekend," Flicker observed. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm glad we got to come meet you. But finding a weekend that works for a whole team - for two teams?" She shrugged. "Still, we'll have to see what we can do in the future."

"New Wave's here," Missy informed them, slipping her phone back into her pocket. "They just checked in at the front desk."

"Excellent. Let's break open the food!"

Flicker hopped off her teammate's lap to let Willow up, then took over the seat when she was gone. Taylor stood up too, eager to eat. Fi had found paper plates somewhere, along with napkins. Taylor grabbed a plate and a pair of disposable chopsticks, and so had her hands conveniently full when the elevator opened.

Greetings were made all around, and there was some shuffling for food and seats. Even within the first moments, the cracks in the large group became apparent. Flicker, Glory Girl, and Laserdream gravitated easily together, all of them boisterous and socially gifted. Fi seemed to stick by Panacea, surprisingly, and as Panacea remained in her sister's outer radius, Fi became a sort of second-hand hanger on. Taylor and Missy and Willow, on the other hand, formed the sort of 'second clique' of conversation, more from not being a part of the other group than from any firm sense of friendship.

Within minutes, they had exhausted the easiest conversation topics. Even with people occupied by eating, there just wasn't much they could say while their real identities were secret. Perhaps that was how Panacea's quiet conversation with Fi ended up getting the attention it did.

"You're really good with these," the healer said, waving her own chopsticks for emphasis.

"Try moving up on the shaft a little. No, I mean, move closer to the food. You'll have more control, and it's not like you're trying to eat rice or anything." Fi hadn't bothered with a plate, merely claiming an entire box of pepper chicken, which she'd topped off with rice. She was making short work of the food, not the least hindered by the utensils.

"There's more than one way to use them, too," Fi volunteered after another mouthful. "You've got them both moving every time you pinch. I keep the bottom one anchored, and just manipulate the top one." She demonstrated the hand posture - one chopstick pinned in the deep part of her thumb joint, the other rotating on the top of the thumb directed by her index and middle finger. Panacea tried to imitate it and dropped both sticks back on her plate.

Fi shrugged. "Different methods for different people. The best thing is just to pick a posture and practice, really. I think we did get some forks, if you prefer." She managed to deftly feed herself a large clump of rice without looking at her hands.

"I'll manage," Panacea sighed. "Just not as quickly."

"Show me," Glory Girl asked, leaning over. Fi twisted her wrist around and exaggerated her hand position.

It said something about the tension of the room that they managed to talk about chopsticks for the next fifteen minutes. They compared techniques, traded stories of how they'd first learned to use them, which all basically boiled down to a lot of dropped food and practice, and eventually let the conversation die, as they listened to Glory Girl and Laserdream trade stories about Photon Mom, who had been the one to teach the New Wave girls.

Somehow - Taylor wasn't really sure how but somehow - Laserdream managed to switch topics and ramble on about her boyfriend of nearly three whole months. "He's a big old softy at heart, really. I mean, he doesn't even want people to know that we're dating because he's all worried about my image."

"Why?" Flicker asked. New Wave grimaced.

"There was some stuff a little while ago about my being a slut," Laserdream said as casually as she'd described the still-unnamed boyfriend himself. "An old boyfriend wanted to get back with me, I said no, so he posted a bunch of shit online. Stupid stuff. But I had had my first date with the current BF just a week before, so if it had come out that we were going steady too soon after, it would have looked bad. I didn't know what to do, but he understood my concern. He suggested we just keep everything secret."

"He's great," Glory Girl said. "Much better than my boyfriend."

Casually, as though she didn't know, Missy asked, "Oh, are you and Dean on again?"

"Yeah," Glory Girl answered with a flip of her hand. "For now. It just seems like we're never in the same place at the same time, you know? I mean, he's great. And it's great when we're together, but, like, are we going in the same direction? He's all about college and moving away and, I mean, I don't really know if I see that for myself, right? High school's hard enough with cape shit. College? Why bother?"

"So you're going to join the Protectorate then?" Fi asked casually. Glory Girl gave her a blank look. "For your career, I mean."

"I guess," Glory Girl said doubtfully. "I could just stay with New Wave too."

Taylor understood Fi's drift: New Wave wasn't a government organization. All the adults worked full-time jobs to be able to afford their independence. If Glory Girl meant to carry on the tradition, she would indeed need a career. It seemed that point had missed Glory Girl entirely.

"You could go with him, and be an independent hero wherever he goes to college," Flicker offered, thinking over the situation. "I mean, it's not like people don't know you're dating."

"And chase a boy all over the country? Carol would _flip_." Glory Girl's lips popped on the last word. "And I mean… I don't know. It's just that I'm busy, you know. School and patrols and whatever. Seems like we never see each other. He doesn't make the time to see me."

"Has he canceled dates?" Fi asked with mild censure.

Glory Girl waved the question away. "No, it's not that. It's just that we never hang out anymore, you know? Like, we used to just meet up and do whatever. The mall or the boardwalk. Now I only see him a couple times a week."

Taylor exchanged a glance with Missy. It hadn't taken her long to notice the strain between Vista and Gallant, though she hadn't understood it until Missy admitted her crush in the safety of Taylor's kitchen, pink with embarrassment.

Now, Missy was doing her best to ignore Glory Girl, focusing on her kung pow beef. Gallant had been running himself ragged to try to make time for Glory Girl - taking weird shifts to try to free up prime hours, and even extending his patrols if it meant they might end up in the same areas.

Glory Girl, however, kept blowing him off when he tried to meet up with her and setting tentative plans that never quite seemed to work out. This past week, she'd used excuses such as being tired and hanging out with friends whenever Dean had tried to get in touch with her. They'd gone to see a movie on Wednesday, Taylor thought, but Glory Girl had had patrol afterwards so they hadn't gotten to eat or actually talk.

"Must be difficult," Willow offered. "Is he just not interested?"

Missy looked up from her food and met Taylor's eyes. They couldn't say anything, of course, since they weren't supposed to know "Dean, Glory Girl's boyfriend" personally. Still, it wasn't easy to sit and listen to Glory Girl talk down about their teammate.

"Who knows," Glory Girl waved a hand. "Maybe we just need a break. Wait until summer when we'll have more time."

It was Panacea who added the next hidden jab, asking mildly, "Aren't you going to that camp this summer?"

"Yeah, for like, eight weeks," Glory Girl said, again missing the point.

Taylor took the opportunity to turn the conversation aside. "What about you, Panacea? Any boys?"

She shrugged. "Not really. The hospital keeps me busy."

"You're not missing much," Fi offered. "Most teenage boys are pretty clueless."

"Clueless, yes," Flicker added her two cents. "But there are… other talents."

Laserdream's eyes focused on her. "Oh, do tell."

"Brian and I just passed the six month mark." Something in her smile hinted at a deeper meaning.

"Yeah? He any good?"

Flicker flipped her hair over her shoulder with a toss of her head. "Would I keep him if he wasn't?"

"Well it's certainly _not_ for the conversation," Willow muttered, but she either wasn't heard by her teammate or was ignored.

"He does this-" Flicker continued before Fi cut her off.

"Eating here, thank you very much."

The remark was perhaps a bit rude - not really any worse than Flicker preparing to discuss her sex life in front of near strangers while they were all eating, but still not particularly tactful.

"No action for you, then, I take it?" Laserdream asked pointedly.

Fi met her gaze steadily. "You could say being raped rather damped my enthusiasm for the subject."

What little congeniality had remained in the group died with that cutting remark. Taylor looked down and picked at her chow mein. Missy was looking across the circle of chairs with open sympathy, along with Willow and Flicker. New Wave just looked stunned.

Fi stood up. "I'm gonna grab more chicken. Anyone else need something?"

"Coke?" Flicker asked softly. Fi nodded as she walked back to the conference table to put a box of food in the microwave on her way to the fridge.

Glory Girl nudged her cousin, and it didn't look particularly gentle. "What?" Laserdream hissed back. The dirty look she got in answer spoke volumes, and she settled back into her seat, sullen.

The subject of Fi's trauma hadn't come up among the Wards since the night of the Simurgh's last attack. She'd alluded to it during her maskless interview, and there had been some hints on some of the early PHO threads that people had caught that detail, but then it had sort of died down. Taylor suspected that no one really knew what to say about it, which was kinda her own reaction.

"I didn't mean to bring up a sore subject," Flicker offered into the resounding silence. Fi brought over the coke, her food still whirling in the microwave in the background.

She shrugged as Flicker reached out to accept the can. "Don't sweat it. It's my bad anyway - should have kept the old trap shut. I'm just not really used to being around people who don't know and treat me like glass because of it."

"Oh." Flicker obviously didn't know how to respond to _that_.

Fi's infuriating habit of sounding so casual when discussing what should be important subjects probably wasn't helping her coherence. "Anyway, point is I'm not really eager for a boyfriend. You never did say - how did you meet yours?"

"School friend," Flicker said cautiously. "Class project, actually."

Taylor decided to step up and help out her friend, bringing the conversation back to a more casual topic. "What about you Willow?"

"My girlfriend and I have been together about four weeks. She doesn't like me to discuss her with non-civilians."

Well… that went over like a lead balloon. It was Glory Girl who stepped up next to try to diffuse the awkwardness. "Poker, anyone?"

"No," chorused Laserdream and Missy together. Laserdream elaborated, "You cleaned me out last month, remember?"

"Maybe another game, then?" Willow asked. She floundered for a moment, obviously without any idea of what to offer.

Taylor herself was wishing she remembered which games they had besides the poker chips. She didn't know any card games that would accommodate eight players, and she couldn't remember if Missy had specified which board games they had. The only one that came to mind was, "Truth or Dare?"

The girls brightened, and Missy stood up to go over to the monitor station. "I'll get the pens and paper," she said, assuming they'd be using her version of the game.

Glory Girl either wasn't so patient, or had no idea what Missy meant. "I'll go first," she said at the same time.

"Let's wait for Vista," Taylor braved saying. "It's more fair this way, anyway."

"What's that?" Flicker inquired.

Missy explained as she came back with pens and paper in hand. "Write down your dares and your questions, each on their own slip, and fold them up. Then we'll all draw out slips for our turn."

"Seriously?" Laserdream drawled. This time, Glory Girl didn't elbow her. "Why complicate things?"

"What if we draw write down the same stuff?" Flicker asked before Missy could answer.

"Or draw your own dare?" was Glory Girl's non-helpful contribution.

Fi shrugged, accepting paper and pen from Missy . "Don't write down anything you wouldn't do."

Glory Girl scoffed. "Where's the fun in that? If we're going to do this stupid game, there ought to be a little risk."

Taylor was immediately uncomfortable. She didn't have a problem with the game in principle - sharing harmless secrets and mild embarrassment actually wasn't bad bonding strategy for new friends or for established friendships - but in middle school she and Emma had been a part of more than one game that got out of hand and this group seemed to have that potential.

"I think we should just do it this way." Taylor gestured with her own paper and pencil. "I mean, you wouldn't want to," she scrambled to think of something really terrible, "French your sister or something."

Glory Girl's eyes shone at the challenge. " _Pah-lease_. What's one kiss?" And with that, she turned to her side, put her hand on the back of Panacea's head, and gave her a mouth-to-mouth kiss.

Panacea squeaked, but it was over before anyone in the room really understood what had just happened. Technically, the quick closed-mouth kiss didn't count as Frenching, but no one objected. In the background, the microwave beeped. Glory Girl preened. "My turn, right?"

Fi went to go get her food, and the others were too stunned to protest. Glory Girl wasn't the least bit embarrassed. In fact, _Taylor_ was blushing more than she was. Poor Panacea was red as a tomato.

Glory Girl promptly looked across the circle. "Flicker, truth or dare?"

There was a moment when someone could have stopped it - the train wreck could have been averted, the game could have been abandoned - but there was just enough social momentum that no one did.

"Truth!" Flicker chirped, getting into the swing of the game. Fi returned to her seat with her second box of food.

Glory Girl looked eager as she asked, "What's the longest you've ever gone without showering?"

"That's easy. I do week-long and ten-day camping trips with my family without showering. So, yeah, somewhere around ten or eleven days." The other girls in the circle laughed and relaxed, and Taylor breathed a sigh of relief. The game seemed to be taking a safer turn, at least for now.

"Where do you camp?" Laserdream asked, genuinely curious.

"Anywhere and everywhere. We don't mind driving a day or two to the location, since we're going to be out for so long anyway," Flicker explained. She looked around at the assembled group. "Panacea, truth or dare?"

"Truth," she answered, with a wary glance toward her sister.

Flicker hmmed for a moment, thinking, before she asked, "What was your first kiss?"

Panacea's eyes went back to her sister for just a moment, but then she said, "Ah, Sean Kennish. It was last year, after a football game. No big deal. We went on two more dates after that, but it just wasn't right." Panacea was visibly tense as she spoke, and Glory Girl reached out sympathetically and put her hand on her sister's knee comfortingly. Perhaps there was something else there, that Taylor didn't know about?

Panacea visibly shook herself and turned the attention outward. "Vista, truth or dare?"

"Dare," Missy responded, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Taylor was a little surprised that she'd volunteer to be the second dare, considering the accidental first dare that had started the game, until she remembered the question that had just been asked. If Taylor didn't have a first kiss story to share, Missy probably didn't either. Depending on what questions got asked tonight, she and Missy might both be left without any good answers.

Panacea didn't need to think about the dare before she commanded, "I dare you to dance crazy for 60 seconds!"

With visible relief, Missy got to her feet and started to bounce and sway. The dare got more embarrassing when Flicker used her phone to play "Yankee Doodle," but it was still a safe and funny dare.

When the song was over, Missy collapsed back in her seat, sweating slightly. She looked over at Taylor, who was glad her first dare would come from her friend. "Truth or dare?"

"Dare," she said. If it had just been the Wards, she might have said truth. Truth or Dare had been one of her favorite games to play with Emma, because the funny memories and the shared secrets shared could become so, so precious. In this group, however, she wasn't sure if she was really willing to be open. Taylor trusted Missy not to ask about anything she _knew_ was a sore subject, but her past was so riddled with tough spots and good memories made sour that she didn't want to risk it.

"I dare you to do ten cartwheels."

Taylor climbed to her feet and the girls all cleared a space for her. Ten miserable attempts at acrobatics later it was over, after much good-natured encouragement and ribbing from the girls. Even Taylor could laugh through her embarrassed blush. Who hadn't been picked yet? Fi was available, but it wasn't really fair for the Brockton Bay Wards to all pick each other. Willow hadn't been chosen, and neither had Laserdream.

"Laserdream, truth or dare?"

"Truth," she said casually. Shoot, now Taylor needed a good question. Something non-sexual, to keep the game safe, and something other than "your most embarrassing moment" which was a cheapie. Finally, Taylor fell back to one of Emma's old favorites. "What's one thing you would change about the past year, if you could?"

"I never would have gone out with Jimmy Baldwin," she said simply.

"Oh, details," Flicker demanded.

"He was… boring. A good kisser. But otherwise, just _boring_." The girls all giggled at that. Laserdream looked across the room at Fi. Shit. This was going to be bad. "Truth or dare?"

Fi met her gaze steadily, obviously weighing which option was likely to be worse. "Dare."

"I dare you to show us your power. Your real power, not that telekinesis crap you used all day."

Silence reigned for only a moment, but it felt much longer. Fi managed to respond evenly, "Any particular party trick you were hoping to see?"

"I want to see whatever it was that defeated Behemoth."

"How badly do you want it?"

Laserdream leaned back at the seriousness of the question. "What?"

"How badly do you want to see it?"

Laserdream scoffed a little, "It's Truth or Dare. You chose the dare, you do it. Or you have to answer _two_ questions."

Fi's eyes flickered to the side for just a moment. It might have just been her reading something off her internal display, but it didn't seem that way. Something in Fi's posture reminded Taylor of the moment when she'd called Alexandria "Rebecca" and the dangerous note in her voice when she'd ordered the Triumvirate out of the building, and they'd obeyed.

"I think that might be best. Ask your boon questions."

Laserdream's chin jutted out, displeased. With a certain amount of viciousness, she asked, "How'd you trigger?"

"Crys!" Glory Girl yelled.

Beetle found herself on her feet, and Vista was only a step behind her. Together, they formed a physical barrier between Contract and Laserdream.

"Not cool!" Flicker interjected.

"Crystal!" Panacea added her voice to the protests.

In the single moment of silence before Laserdream could have defended herself, Fi said evenly, "I failed. A young girl was about to suffer for my mistakes, and I was unwilling to accept that. I fundamentally rejected the reality of human evil as it presented itself before me. Having just been raped, I would have died rather than watch a six year old girl endure the same."

The other girls around the circle looked sick. Even having heard the short tale once before, Taylor herself felt sick. It was made worse by Fi's steady tone. It was too similar to the tone she used in so many different situations - was every one of the conversations as hard as this one was now? Was the careful control always an indication of such inner turmoil?

The whole circle was looking at Fi, stunned, as she calmly asked, "What was your second boon?"

"We're done," Glory Girl said, cutting off her cousin. Laserdream opened her mouth and Glory Girl insisted, "That's enough, Crystal. We're done here. I think it's best we painted nails, or some shit like that."

So saying, she grabbed Crystal's arm and dragged her up, out of her chair, and into the tiny office attached to the conference room so they could talk in private.

"Sorry about her," Panacea offered quietly.

Fi shrugged. "It's been six years. That event no longer has the same power to hurt me."

"Even so, she shouldn't have asked."

Fi inclined her head, "Thank you."

"So, ah," Willow tried to break the tension, "should we just switch to a movie, or do we actually want to paint nails or…?"

"I wouldn't mind a pedicure," Panacea volunteered, and Missy nodded.

"Might be nice to break up into smaller groups for a bit," Flicker agreed. "Besides, we've got to paint our nails for the dance next weekend. Unless you were planning to pay for a pedicure?" she asked her teammate.

"Nah, you do a better job anyway."

Missy went to collect her polish collection which she'd brought from home for the occasion, and Flicker produced the handful of bottles that were part of her enormous travel cosmetic kit.

Fi got up to go toward the bathroom, and Taylor tracked her with her bugs. She took a handful of towels out of the linen cupboard, but then just stopped and leaned against the far sink, staring into the mirror. After a moment, Taylor realized Fi was crying, and Taylor ducked down the hall to check on her.

When Taylor looked into the bathroom, Fi was crying softly, so she closed the door behind her and came to lean on the sink next to the one Fi was gripping in both white-knuckled hands.

"It's okay," Taylor whispered.

Fi didn't respond, which was when Taylor realized her glasses were sitting on the next sink over. Cautiously, Taylor reached out and put a hand on Fi's shoulder, so she would know she wasn't alone. Fi shuddered, and choked on a sob.

"Four hundred and twelve people," she gasped.

Taylor didn't say anything. She wasn't sure why the Simurgh was on Fi's mind, but she knew for herself how illogical grief could be.

"It's not your fault," Taylor said, even though Fi wouldn't hear her. She squeezed her shoulder tighter, trying to convey her support without words.

"I shouldn't have said all that," Fi reproached herself. She reached out for another handful of water, and rinsed her face again. Then she pulled out some paper towels, and patted her skin dry, hiding the redness.

Once her glasses were back on, Taylor murmured, "Maybe, maybe not. But it was only the truth, after all."

"It didn't help the situation," Fi observed.

Taylor huffed. "What's her problem, anyway?" Over the course of the day, it had become obvious that Laserdream didn't like Fi, but Taylor didn't feel like they'd really gotten to the root cause yet.

"Could be anything. PHO has a number of conspiracy threads saying I could have done something sooner, or that I purposefully let the Simurgh attack Australia, or that I didn't deal with the Simurgh until after the capeless funds hit a certain threshold – that I was being greedy, basically. There's people who are mad I haven't donated all of the Endbringer rewards, when the reality is that almost everything is still in escrow.

"There's people upset that I haven't dealt with the Slaughterhouse Nine, or Nilbog, or a hundred other issues. Some people want me to heal other cities like I did New York. Some people are even saying it was illegal for me to change so much of New York and so many people without anyone's permission.

"She could be jealous of my power. It could be anything, but I think it's most likely it's got something to do with the whole unmasking business. I don't really care."

Taylor tactfully didn't point out that for a girl who didn't care, she had just moments ago been crying alone in the bathroom. "We're here for you."

"I know," Fi gave her a weak but sincere smile. "We should get back out there." She picked up the towels they could use to protect the carpet, as her excuse for why she'd left the room.

Taylor accepted the change of subject, and they trouped back out to the main room. Glory Girl and Willow were already doing each other's toes, while Flicker was showing Laserdream pictures of more sophisticated designs on the monitors, and they were deciding if it was worth the effort to try one. Fi chose to sit down next to Panacea, so Taylor took the seat next to Missy, within murmuring distance of Glory Girl and Willow.

"Sorry about Laserdream," Glory Girl said quietly as Taylor offered a warm, wet towel to Missy. "She's touchy about the whole secret identity stuff, and I think it's spilled over into, well, anyway..." she trailed off awkwardly.

"Flicker will keep her occupied," Willow offered. "She gets along with everyone."

"She okay?" Missy muttered to Taylor. Taylor didn't have to ask to know she meant Fi. The bugs near Fi were picking up murmuring between her and Panacea, but she still wasn't practiced enough to know what they were saying. The girls were just rubbing lotion on their own feet, but they seemed to be getting along.

"She mentioned the Simurgh's victims when I went in." Taylor said, before she elaborated, "I think it just brought up Ash again." She remembered being the one crying in a bathroom when the grief hit unexpectedly, trying to stop and wash her face before it became too obvious. It wasn't a look she thought she was likely to mistake on her friend.

"Can I ask?" Willow ventured. "I mean, if it's secret identity stuff…" she didn't finish the question. Of course it was secret identity stuff. Everything was, really.

Missy glanced over at Fi. "Well, I guess that cat kinda got let out of the bag last night, didn't it?"

Taylor tried to remember exactly what Fi had said as she ranted at Clockblocker, but couldn't recall the exact words.

"Who's Ash?" Glory Girl asked.

Taylor and Missy exchanged a glance, and Taylor looked down. She didn't really know the protocols here, when it came to another capes' secrets, but she did remember how it felt after her mom died. She had told Emma to explain the situation to anyone who had asked, to spare her the awkwardness of having to do so. Taylor tried to think how to answer the question, with as few details as possible but enough so they'd understand. She just didn't know what she was allowed to say in this situation.

"He's her uncle," Missy finally said, "the one who died the day the Simurgh attacked."

"She mentioned him in the interview," Glory Girl confirmed. Willow's forehead wrinkled, and she looked up from Glory Girl's toes.

"Last night…" she left it hanging, unwilling to outright call any of the Brockton Bay Wards a liar.

Taylor decided that a more detailed explanation was really the only way to make peace. It might not be normal protocol, but she certainly didn't want Fi to have to explain it either. "About the same time that Dragon and Armsmaster realized the Simurgh was on the move, Ash somehow found out about it, too. He called Contract to tell her, in case there was something she could do. We were on video chat with him when…" she swallowed. If it was hard for her remember the gunshot, how much worse was it for Fi? "He was shot, live on camera in front of us. The man who did it had had Simurgh exposure in the past. The shock of it put Contract out of commission until the next day. We don't think the timing was a coincidence."

That wasn't too many new details that Willow hadn't already known, and just enough to quiet Glory Girl's suspicions. Plus, Fi had technically mentioned Ash in the interview in the aftermath, telling the whole world. Missy gave her a subtle nod, and Taylor replied with a quick smile. At least she hadn't said too much.

"She saw it happen?" Willow whispered.

Missy nodded. "Yeah. We all did." She shivered, remembering. Taylor shook her bottle of polish, more for something to do than anything else.

"What's she like when she's not, you know, fighting for her life?" Willow asked. "I feel like we've kinda gotten a skewed glimpse."

Missy shrugged, trying to act casual, but didn't seem to have an answer. Taylor took a stab at it instead. "She's a little intense, I guess. But she's always trying to do the right thing. She's usually got a really good read on people, but she can be a little defensive."

Missy nodded. "When you're on her side, she'd bleed for you without second thought. But if you're not, well, she's wary. I think she's been betrayed before, a lot." After a hesitant second she added, "The man that killed her uncle – she knew him. Knew him by name."

"That sucks," Willow commented.

"Jesus," was Glory Girl's contribution. "Can you imagine? Someone you know, killing someone you love, right in front of you?" She shuddered dramatically, "I am so glad the Simurgh is gone."

The girls all hummed in agreement. "Hey," Willow piped up, "is it true you guys had help taking down Coil?"

"You mean Tattletale? Yeah," Missy replied easily, happy to be off the subject of Contract. Flicker and Laserdream, on one side of their foursome, were giggling as Flicker tried to do some sort of pattern on Laserdream's toes with at least three different colors. On the group's other side Fi and Panacea were still talking in low voices.

"What was she like?" Willow pressed. "Weld was asking us the other day if we'd be willing to have her be paroled to our team."

"Are they going to parole her?" Taylor asked. "I thought we wouldn't know for a while?"

"That was before Coil killed himself," Missy explained. "With him dead, she's the best bet for figuring out the full extent of his operation and prosecuting them. She also had to agree to testify against her teammates."

"I heard Grue is going to be paroled to the LA protectorate in a couple months when he turns eighteen," Willow offered. Taylor wondered if that meant he would be eligible for custody of his sister as a 'redeemed' villain, or whether his past would keep her locked in a bad situation. She'd probably have to arrange to visit Tattletale wherever she was being held if she wanted an answer.

Tattletale had told Beetle a bit about all the Undersiders, and how they were each pressured into joining the team, back when she'd been helping the Wards figure out how to take down Coil. It had been a transparent attempt to make her pity the villains, but it had worked more than Taylor would care to admit. Fortunately, they had all been captured and would face the much less partial justice system.

"Tattletale didn't seem too bad," Taylor said. "I don't think we could have taken on Coil without her help. And he did recruit her at gunpoint – it's not like she wanted to be a villain."

"Might not be a great team player, though," Missy warned. "She bit her lip a lot around us, but even so she's got a sharp tongue on her. I'd hate to think what tonight might have become if she'd been here."

Taylor privately thought that Laserdream would have gotten exactly what was coming to her, but refrained from saying so in front of Glory Girl.

"Not exactly a solid recommendation," Willow sighed mournfully.

"Why can't she be paroled here in Brockton Bay?" Taylor asked. "Shadow Stalker was."

"Shadow Stalker wasn't a villain," Missy observed. "The PRT doesn't parole villains often, and when they do they nearly always move them to a new city. Why, do you want her on the team?"

"She was pretty helpful against Coil," Taylor defended the thinker. "More than she really had to be. And in the end, she picked us over her team. She tazed Grue."

Missy shrugged. "If you feel strongly about it, you can testify at her hearing."

"I can?"

"Sure. Just let Clockblocker know you want to speak. He and Armsmaster will have a bigger say about whether she'll come here, but you can at least help her get on another team if they don't send her back to Brockton Bay."

"I think it's scheduled for two weeks from Thursday," Willow supplied.

"Thanks," Taylor said, surprised by their helpfulness. She opened the bottle of nail polish and started to paint her own toes. It had been a long time since she put on more than the barest traces of makeup. When had she last painted her nails? Summer camp, she remembered, back before...before. She had chosen a bright, eye-blinding yellow, and angrily scrubbed it off the week after she got back, having never gotten the chance to laugh at the color with Emma.

"Okay, the really critical question," Glory Girl began pompously. "Hottest celebrity. Go."

Taylor glanced up and saw Willow beaming at the topic choice. "Scarlett Johansson, anyone?"

"Oh my god, yes!" Glory Girl agreed. "Did you see her in that new action one?"

"I meant the Earth Aleph version," Willow clarified.

"Blonde? Really?" Missy double checked. "I think she's way better as a red-head."

Taylor zoned out while the other three gossiped back and forth, listening without really caring. Flicker and Laserdream were still slaving over Flicker's patterned nails.

For their part, Panacea and Fi still hadn't opened any nail polish. Instead, Fi seemed to be giving Panacea a foot rub. They weren't talking, at the moment, but neither were they tense.

After a while, Flicker and Laserdream joined them in the larger circle, and the conversation drifted to movies. Thanks to Missy, Taylor had actually seen two of the films currently in theaters, and so could participate in the discussion. Where she wasn't familiar with the material, she made agreeing noises with Missy or Willow.

It was bad luck that their conversation hit a lull at the same time that Panacea asked Fi, "What was it, that made him intervene?"

The other girls continued on, so perhaps they hadn't heard, but Taylor found herself distracted into eavesdropping on Fi and Panacea.

"There was a little kid. Somewhere in that weird ten-to-thirteen year old range I can never guess properly. Aneurysm. To me, it was just a double-decker cheeseburger."

Taylor wasn't quite sure what the question meant, any more than she really understood the answer, but the tone was enough to tell her it was important. Quietly, almost reverently, Panacea inquired, "That's all?"

"I'm not proud of it," Fi murmured back. "It's not an exaggeration to say that I owe Ash my life." Fi looked up from her toes, and met Panacea's eyes.

Even without the context of the rest of their conversation, Taylor knew what she meant. Something in the tone, the pacing of the words, told her that Fi had been suicidal, and that Ash had intervened. She felt cold all over, wondering why she was so certain that she recognized that tone and could confidently diagnose it.

"Come on, Amy, help me out here," Glory Girl implored loudly, drawing them into the general discussion.

"What was that?" Panacea asked her sister, glancing away from Fi reluctantly.

"We're picking a movie," Willow explained. "Your sister wants Mean Girls."

"And I'm telling you, no," Laserdream insisted. "We always watch that. Pick something else."

"We've got a bunch of action stuff," Missy volunteered, looking through the collection that various Wards had donated to the base over time.

"Any of the good Bonds?" Flicker asked eagerly.

Fi leaned forward, content to join the discussion and leave aside the more serious topics. "Which ones do you consider good?"

Taylor let the following debate wash over her, while she sat at the periphery of Fi's personal space, ready in case she was needed. Eventually they decided on one of the newest films, and all settled down into the blankets and other makeshift bedding available. Without question or hesitation, Fi spread her blanket over both their laps, and Taylor knew that Fi appreciated her help that evening.

It helped make up for the fact that Laserdream fell asleep two bodies away, as a guest and future ally of the Wards.

* * *

 **April 24, 2011**

Fi was the first one up the next morning, but Taylor wasn't far behind her, woken when she sensed that someone was moving around. She lazed in the comfortable bedding for a few minutes, checking in on her swarm and doing basic maintenance, before she went to find Fi in the bathroom, just getting out of the shower.

"Going somewhere?"

"Church. It's Easter Sunday."

Taylor raised her eyebrows, startled. "Oh. I didn't realize. You want some company?"

Fi smiled indulgently. "Thanks, but that's not necessary. I've already told Dragon the church I want to check out, and she's cleared it. I've filed an excursion plan with the PRT, and I've been authorized to walk there and back alone."

"That wasn't what I meant," Taylor reassured her. She wasn't exactly clear on all of Fi's safety restrictions, but the thought that she might need escorting hadn't crossed her mind. "I just didn't want you to feel like you had to celebrate alone, if you didn't want to."

"I appreciate it. I really don't mind, though. It wouldn't mean to you what it does to me."

That was true enough. Taylor decided to change topics. "You okay after last night?"

"You worry too much. I'm fine."

"Laserdream was pretty nasty."

"Amy said she's been pretty bitter about the unmasking. The New Wave kids never really had a choice, you know? She doesn't like that I'm defending a villain's right to have what she never did. And since Glory Girl kinda spoke out without permission, she and the others have been told to keep their heads down and mouths shut, just in case it causes waves."

"That's not your fault."

"The joys of being a public figure," was Fi's sardonic reply. Taylor shrugged, not really able to argue.

"Can I ask you something?" she ventured. Fi leaned into the mirror, applying lipstick, but made an affirmative noise. "Are you really okay with the whole kidnapping thing?"

Fi didn't look away from the mirror as she asked, "Are you?"

"I guess?" She'd tried not to think about it too much, really. "I mean, I feel better now that I know how I would fare against superior opponents. I know which of my ideas worked, which didn't, and I've got a thousand more plans to try next time. It's just… I mean…"

"It wasn't meant to be a pleasant experience," Fi offered. Taylor nodded, agreeing. She did feel more confident, knowing how well she could control an encounter, and how close she'd come to getting away, and how well she'd adapted to powers specifically chosen to challenge her. But she'd still been taken from her home in the middle of the night.

Taylor elaborated, "You've been kidnapped before. It didn't… trigger anything?"

Fi shrugged, packing away her makeup. "It wasn't pleasant," she repeated. "I woke up from reliving my trigger event, having just vividly remembered killing five men, and found people attacking myself and Jason. Then Jason was gone. I let myself get taken to follow him. It wasn't the 'being kidnapped' that was stressful, exactly. That part didn't come close to comparing to the severity of either of the previous kidnapping attacks I've endured. I was on much more equal ground, this time.

"The hardest part for me was not knowing who the enemy was. I couldn't judge the appropriate response. There are people out there who desperately want me dead. There are people who want to just hurt me, or to see what I can and can't do. I felt like I was being toyed with, so I didn't know how strong they really were."

"That's why you almost killed Willow."

"That's why I almost escalated against Willow. I don't believe I would have actually killed her. At the time, yes, that was my fear, especially after I realized she was a friendly. Now, in retrospect, I really hope I would have backed off at the last second."

Taylor sighed. "You think they'll do it again?"

"Probably," Fi told her without hesitation, turning to meet her eyes through the soft purple lenses of her glasses. "This was a valuable experience. If they thought it would help us in the long run, I think they might repeat it." An alert went off on Fi's phone, the screen lighting up and buzzing to get her attention. She slipped a purple dress over her head and wig. "Anyone else awake?"

"No." Taylor didn't even need to check her swarm. She already knew the answer subconsciously.

"I need to be on my way." Fi stepped closer and gave Taylor an honest hug. "Try not to worry about this stuff. We can talk more later." Taylor nodded, hugging Fi back.

"Happy Easter," she wished her friend.

"Happy Easter, Taylor."

Fi turned and snuck out of the bathroom and the base, careful not to wake anyone up. For her part, Taylor went down to her workshop, even though she could have just as easily worked from the Wards' base. She wanted to give her workers her full concentration. It was time to make some of those new trap ideas into a reality.

* * *

Author's Note: Thanks to the fabulous SlowMercury for beta'ing this chapter. Readers, this chapter may have taken longer than you expected, but it is _greatly_ improved from the first draft. Future updates will probably be about once every two weeks, due to increased busyness in my real life. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated!


	49. Indoctrination

**Chapter Forty-Nine: Indoctrination**

 **April 24, 2011**

Theo liked watching people. He didn't have his father's skill with them, couldn't convince them or control them. But he did like to try to at least understand them. When he was younger, watching carefully had been his best defense. He taught himself when he needed to make himself scarce, when to be quiet, when to avoid drawing attention to himself. He learned to recognize the times when no amount of silence or respect would save him and he may as well try to say something.

It didn't change anything, of course. He was still fundamentally the disappointing son who would never be the heir his father craved. He was still the unwanted stepson who was tolerated only for Aster's sake. He was still the pudgy, slow child. But at least he wasn't getting any _worse_.

Watching people, trying to predict them, had become such an ingrained habit that it was now relaxing. Usually. The last eight days had been like watching a pot slowly come to a boil, knowing that when it finally did so the vapors would be explosive.

His father had discovered Coil's treachery eight minutes after noon on the previous Saturday, when a reporter had called to request a statement regarding "the slander." Theo had been sitting at the kitchen table, gamely trying to understand the most recent chapter of algebra, when he heard his father's voice become dangerous. It wasn't a voice that Max Anders used frequently, but he'd heard it often enough from Kaiser. Theo had gripped his pencil more tightly, pulled his textbook closer, and kept his head down.

Max was already furious about Kayden's defection and the difficulties he was having locating Aster. For something to make him madder? It wouldn't be good, that was for certain.

Max had hung up with the reporter, and the landline had promptly rung again. When that call was silenced, another came through. That was when Max threw the handset across the length of his office. Two rooms away, Theo flinched but kept his head down. a math-studying statue who was no longer even trying to see the pages in front of him.

Max had started calling his people, and Theo took the opportunity to make himself scarce. He went upstairs to his own bedroom, put away his school work, and turned on his computer. A basic Google search provided the general shape of what was happening: the Empire had been outted. His father's name wasn't on the list, but a number of other Medhall employees were, and a lot of people were drawing a connection. That was probably why the reporters wanted to talk to his dad. No wonder Kaiser had screamed about a slander suit. But it wouldn't hold the sharks off for long.

Very quickly, a single link became more and more popular, outstripping all other online results. It was a videolink from a particular newsource. He could click on it and watch it up here, but Theo hesitated. If his dad came upstairs and found Theo watching something with the appearance of secrecy, he'd be in trouble whether or not the video deserved it. If he went downstairs and turned on the main TV, it was unlikely his father would even notice, and Theo would have the protection of openness, rather than "skulking up in his room."

Despite knowing it was the best, the only, way to watch whatever was setting the internet on fire, Theo still needed several deep breaths to work up the necessary courage. Then he had gotten up, walked back downstairs, and turned on the TV. He flipped the channel a few times to find the right station, and then stood frozen in stunned silence.

"...This is, at its heart, an attack on American liberty. Americans have the right to privacy. They have the right to be presumed innocent until proven guilty. This list flies in the face of both of those basic rights." The Ender was sitting casually in a New York studio, talking to a host that Theo didn't immediately recognize.

The newscaster leaned forward, his well-polished suit wrinkling just slightly. "Criminals can't be expected to enjoy the same rights as free citizens. And you can hardly argue that capes have, what, a right to a mask? A right to commit crimes anonymously?" His mocking tone was pissing off Theo and he'd barely turned on the TV.

Contract didn't hesitate to snap back at him. "Of course we have a right to cover our faces. My secret identity protected my family after New York. It may not be a stipulated right, yet, but it ought to be. And being a hero means fighting for everyone's rights, not just your own.

"Criminals do have rights, that's part of what defines America. We don't just protect the majorities, we also protect the minorities. Criminals forfeit very specific rights, _after_ they have been convicted. You're talking about endangering citizens and their rights to life and liberty…"

"Theo?" Slowly, so slowly, Theo turned his attention from the TV to look at his father. Max Anders was standing in the doorway, frozen, looking at the television. "What's this?"

"I think the Ender is defending you," he choked out. Whatever he'd thought he'd hear from an interview with Contract, this wasn't it.

In the silence that followed, Contract's conviction rang through crystal clear, again. "Don't talk to me about the pain of victims like it's a get-out-of-jail-free card. I've heard villains try that same crap, moaning about the suffering or injustices they've seen and how that somehow makes it okay for them to attack others. They don't get to say it, and neither do you.

"No one has the right to say, 'my pain justifies causing pain.' I am a survivor of rape, and an escapee of human trafficking. If anyone has a right to hate white supremacists, it's me. Even so, I do not condone condemning their children, their siblings, and their spouses. That is what Coil is doing. And if we let him succeed, we are just as bad.

"Coil is painting a target on the backs of dozens of innocent people, regardless of the veracity of his claims. My job as a hero isn't to bring all of human prejudice to it's knees. My job as a hero is not to lash out in pain or anger about what happened to me. Being a hero isn't about slaying dragons. It's about protecting people. All people, even bigoted ones..."

His father muttered a curse, breaking Theo's concentration. He whipped his gaze back to the supervillain, but his father was already reaching for his phone again, making another call, deciding the next move. For the next hour, Theo stood numbly in the living room of his home. Kaiser left the house to film the Empire's response, and Theo nearly broke down sobbing in relief when his father decided not to lash out immediately. For just a moment, he thought that maybe everything would be okay, and that joy was hard to suppress.

But after the video aired, his father didn't come back. Instead he stayed out late, very late, preparing a response. The relief and joy died, as Theo was left with no doubt that Brockton Bay was going to pay for Coil's mistake in blood. Maybe that day, maybe another, but the city was going to bleed.

Then his father came home. Instead of imagining his father's rage, Theo got to watch it and live with it as it built. Kaiser's message and the defense from the Ender were just a temporary dam, holding back a river of wrath and ruthlessness. Kaiser hadn't restrained himself permanently, he'd only delayed the battle while he knew it was unwinnable. He was a crouching lion, ready to lash out as soon as he thought victory might be possible.

The next day had been no better. Kaiser spent the entire day in his office, making calls and plans, trying to find a victory for the Empire. Could they provoke this cape or that one into fighting the Empire on their terms? What sort of response could they expect? When was the best time to strike?

Max didn't go to work on Monday, and when Theo finally got home from school he knew the situation had not improved. Every day brought a new level of tension. Every day brought his father closer to violence, and he hadn't been far from the edge to begin with.

Finally, after eight stressful days, Theo hadn't been able to take it anymore. He'd slipped out the back door of the house early that morning, and walked aimlessly through Brockton Bay. He sat on benches and watched people who were not contemplating murder and wanton destruction. He relaxed a little. He watched families, dolled up and happy. He watched men in uncomfortable suits and daughters in bright yellow dresses.

He'd been sitting across the street from one particular building for a while when he finally understood what he was seeing. It was Easter Sunday, and people who normally avoided all mention of church and God were pretending to care. They were dressed up, holding hands, and pretending that this fulfilled some duty of theirs. Theo stood up in disgust and wandered further down the street.

It wasn't that he really cared about a stupid Christian holiday; Theo wasn't religious himself. It was the hypocrisy that bothered him. He knew his father wasn't a believer - had always known it on some level, though it had taken him a long time to put it in so many words. Since he had, Kaiser's falseness had rubbed against Theo, like a thorn in his side. But at least his father had a reason to dress up and preach the things he didn't believe - he benefited quite clearly from it.

What benefit did these people seek? Why would they bother? Why would they wish to stage such a fraud?

Theo turned away, put the churchgoers out of his mind, and wandered through downtown, idly noticing which businesses were open and which weren't. He turned down a side street, avoiding the library and PRT building which would both be closed this early on a weekend.

There wasn't much to see in that direction except empty skyscrapers anyway. Walking down the smaller thoroughfares let him watch the bustle of a small supermarket as people stocked up on fresh fruits and other produce. It led him past a bookstore that would be closing soon and was promising amazing sales.

In front of him on the sidewalk was another Easter family. The parents were walking behind their children, holding hands and laughing at the antics of the two little girls. Their daughters were skipping down the road, singing something that Theo couldn't understand over their giggling.

The family turned right. Theo followed them on a whim, curious about this family looked genuinely happy. Didn't they see the falsity of the people around them? Didn't it bother them?

As Theo took the corner, the two girls broke into a flat run, squealing as they raced forward to meet another little girl from another family. The kids met, hugged, and then linked up arms. The parents he'd been following greeted the mother of the newcomer by name with a warm handshake. Huh.

The three girls reached the edge of the sidewalk and stopped in place, dancing around like they were going to pee themselves. When the parents finally reached them, the girls waited for permission and then ran across the road, looking back and forth like it was a great adventure to cross the street and disappear into a tiny little church that Theo hadn't noticed until that moment.

He leaned on the brickwork across from the church, watching as his three adults entered a little more sedately, shaking hands with the doormen. The service must be getting ready to start soon, because there was now a steady stream of families approaching the squat little building.

For twenty minutes he watched people file into the tiny church front, surprised when they just kept coming and coming. The inside must be getting crammed by now. It was weird to watch, mostly because it was so different from what he'd seen half an hour earlier at the much larger, more prominent church.

"You going to stand here all day?"

Theo turned to look at the girl who had addressed him. She was about his height, but it was hard to tell because she had leaned one shoulder against the wall next to him. Her sundress was an eye-watering bright purple-on-dark purple design, matching her purple tinted sunglasses. She was pretty, the kind of pretty that usually didn't talk to boys like Theo, with long, wavy hair.

"What?" Theo asked intelligently. She smiled one of those honest smiles that Theo didn't see often enough and held out her hand.

"My name is Sophie. Are you coming in?" She inclined her head towards the church across the street but didn't look away from him.

"Ah, Theo," he hastily introduced as he shook her hand. "I don't go here."

Sophie shrugged, and the movement emphasized her enviable body. "So? Everyone's welcome. And it's Easter. What else are you going to do?"

Theo bit his lip, looking over at the doors, and then back at Sophie. He didn't want to go home, he didn't really have anywhere else he wanted to be, and she seemed to be that very rare combination of nice and nice-looking that appealed to Theo. But did he really want to go to church?

Sophie leaned in, fake-whispering, "I promise, we won't hold you hostage. You don't want to stay, you don't have to." She grinned widely, maybe a little conspiratorially, and Theo laughed.

"I think people would notice if I just left in the middle of a service."

Sophie gave him a funny look. "So? It's not like you know any of us. What do you care?"

The thought was so much like the person that Theo wanted to be that it almost hurt. He wanted to not care what people thought of him, he wanted to be that strong. He wanted a girl like Sophie to believe he was that strong. "Alright," he said as nonchalantly as he could, straightening out of his slump.

Sophie beamed at him and took his arm in hers as naturally as if they'd known each other for years, rather than for sixty seconds. "Good. Now neither of us are alone!" As they started across the street, she leaned in to talk to him, even though he could hear her fine without it. "Do you mind if we sit in the very front? I like not having anyone in front of me, so there's no distractions."

"Won't everyone see us?" Theo asked warily. He'd rather have people in front of him he could imitate.

"So? None of them will really watch us anyway."

"Well, okay," he agreed. Then they were in front of the men holding the double doors open.

"Good morning," greeted the one closer to Theo. "Happy Easter!"

"Happy Easter," Theo managed, before they moved through the doors and the tiny entryway into the main room. The atmosphere and set up reminded Theo of a small independent drama theater he'd visited with his father a year ago. The floor was concrete, and filled to the bursting point with folding chairs. There was a stage in one corner, six inches high if that, and barely big enough for the drum set, keyboard, and five band members who were crowded onto it.

Sophie led him down the narrow center aisle, offering smiles and "Happy Easters" to everyone they passed. Theo mumbled along in her wake, unsure how he'd gotten roped into this. They reached the front row, close enough to the stage that Theo could reach out and touch it, and claimed two of the last four available seats. To Theo's eternal gratitude, Sophie took the chair next to the already-seated family. He didn't have to interact with anyone except his erstwhile guide.

When they were seated, and Sophie had exchanged shallow hellos with her new neighbors, Theo muttered, "You should have left me out there."

"No one should be alone on Easter."

"I don't know anyone here," Theo told her, having to talk a little louder than he'd like just to be heard over the general chatter and the band's warm up and tuning chords.

"It's okay. Neither do I. It's my first time here, but I've heard good things." Theo looked away from the band long enough to give his new friend an incredulous glance. She caught his expression and laughed. "Think of this like an adventure. At the very least, you can tell your friends about this crazy chick you met and laugh at me later!"

Theo shook his head, and then the people around them all stood up in response to some unheard or unseen signal. Sophie got to her feet a beat too late, with Theo, and that made him feel a little better.

The electric guitarist, a man in his late twenties with a neatly trimmed beard, stepped up to the mike and welcomed everyone to the church. The roar of cheering and applause that met this simple sentiment was deafening in such close quarters. With the low ceiling, the sound echoed and reverberated. Surely having so many people packed together so tightly was against at least one fire code?

"Let's praise God today!" encouraged the guitarist, and the drummer started up his beat. Two projectors, pointed to either side of the main stage, which had been displaying announcements and advertisements cycled to show song lyrics that Theo didn't recognize. The keyboard and bass guitar joined the drummer, and then the electric guitarist started playing. Finally, the guitarist and his two female backup singers started to sing, swaying slightly, clapping, and even stamping their feet at points.

The audience joined in with the same fervor that they'd given the simple greeting. Theo didn't even try to blend in, instead glancing around in confusion. People were clapping, many of them out of rhythm, waving their hands, or swaying side to side as much as they could in the tight quarters. He looked to his left. Sophie was smiling broadly, her hands held in front of her, palms skyward, like she was presenting an imaginary platter. She wasn't singing, but one heel was keeping time with the upbeat tune, bouncing her whole body with the rhythm.

The song itself was markedly not the quiet hymn Theo had been expecting. He'd been to church only a few times before, and those congregations had sedately sung songs out of green-covered books with a solemnity somewhat appropriate for addressing the God of the universe, if you believed in such a person.

This… what did he even call this? It wasn't a concert, exactly, but it had that same sort of energy. The people weren't just mouthing along, or mumbling, but singing out. One man just behind Theo was badly off-tune, but it was the only voice he could pick out of the mass of voices. Everyone else was one overwhelming, happy choir. If the man had been two paces further away, Theo probably wouldn't have been able to distinguish even his really bad voice.

The song entered its chorus, again, and Theo looked back to his left as Sophie finally started to sing, at least as flat as the man in the row behind.

"Oh happy day, happy day! You washed my sin away!  
Oh happy day, happy day!  
I'll never be the same. Forever I am changed!"

Her eyes were totally focused on the stage in front of her, her head tilted up either to look at the supposed place of God or because they were just that close to the performers. She wasn't looking at him. No one was looking at him.

With a feeling of silliness, Theo carefully lifted his hands into position, imitating Sophie. The beat of the music was strong. They were close enough to the stage that they were actually in front of the sound system, for which Theo was thankful, but it was still all-encompassing enough that Theo could feel the rhythm pulsating through the soles of his feet and his gut.

At this point, he had three options: he could muster up the courage to turn around and leave, walking back up that narrow aisle alone, or he could keep standing there in awkward silence, or he could try to help balance out the two God-awful singers on either side of him. So when the chorus came around again, Theo opened his mouth and joined in.

"Oh happy day, happy day! You washed my sin away!  
Oh happy day, happy day!  
I'll never be the same. Forever I am changed!"

There was something freeing about singing a song he didn't know surrounded by people who didn't know him. No one was watching him. No one cared. He didn't have to be quiet, or keep his head down, or watch what he did and said. None of these people were going to report back to his dad. None of them were judging him, wondering if he had what it took to be the heir to the Anders fortune or the son of Kaiser.

Beside him, Sophie's arms shifted to lift above her head, clapping in the air, as the music swelled even further. The crowd sang the chorus again and again and again.

 _Oh happy day._ When was the last time Theo had really felt freely happy? It was like weights he didn't realize he'd been carrying were falling off him. For however long this service lasted, he didn't have to be Theo Anders. He hadn't even realized how badly he craved this obscurity. He could be… just Theo.

Whoever that was.

Finally, the guitars strummed repeatedly on the last chord, the drummer beat the snare for all she was worth, and the audience cheered. The bad singer behind Theo shouted, "Hallelujah!" and the cry was echoed by person after person. Theo clapped with the rest.

From the end of the front row, a man stepped up on stage. He walked in front of the band, and accepted a microphone from one of the female singers.

"He is risen!" the pastor yelled, while Theo's heart thud-thudded in his chest.

"HE IS RISEN INDEED!" answered the people, while Theo told himself there was no way his father would ever know he was here. There was no way his father would ever know that he'd stood in a church with a black pastor.

"HE IS RISEN!" the black man on stage shouted even louder, and the people around Theo yelled their refrain louder in response. Theo could hear Sophie's enthusiastic voice among the mass this time. She had a much prettier speaking voice than singing voice. What would she think if he walked out now? Did Theo really care?

Theo was short. With the audience still on their feet from the song, he could probably make it out without too much attention. But why? His father would never know he'd been here. No one who would tell him would be here in the first place. The idea of rebelling against Max Anders in this way was almost heady.

For eight days, Theo had been trying to work up his nerve. He'd been trying to find a way to warn people of the violence his father was planning, the deaths that would follow, but couldn't make himself do it.

The thought of walking back home when this was over, of crossing the threshold, and knowing that Max Anders' son had been in a church with black pastor and Max Anders didn't know it? That was heady, heady thought. Theo could defeat his dad in some small way, in some tiny detail, and even if Kaiser would never know it, Theo _would_.

"He is risen!" the pastor repeated one more time, quieter but with a more intense kind of conviction that appealed to Theo in that moment.

"He is risen indeed," Theo answered with the others. His tone was filled with the same conviction, not because he knew or cared what it meant but because he wanted to participate to his fullest. When he looked his father in the eye and said nothing about where he had been, he wanted to have every possible moment to hold onto. In the corner of his eye, Theo saw Sophie beam at him.

"Welcome, welcome to Grace on Easter Sunday! Praise God that we serve a living and mighty savior, yes?" Again, the crowd yelled and clapped and stamped their feet in response. A few ear-shattering whistles echoed off the concrete. The pastor started talking again before the noise had begun to die down, forcing people to cut themselves off to hear him.

"We want to welcome you here today, whether this is your first time visiting or whether you've been with us from the beginning! Welcome! Let us worship God in this place, yes?" More noise from the people, and this time Theo whistled just to try it. Beside him, Sophie was clapping so hard he could almost hear her above the general mayhem.

"Amen!" cheered several women together, somewhere behind Theo and to his left.

"Amen!" the pastor echoed. "Let us pray!" The people around Theo dropped their heads and closed their eyes, so Theo followed suit. What followed was, well, it was the sort of prayer that media had conditioned Theo to expect from a black preacher, even if he felt a little racist thinking of it that way. It was passionate, and filled with very verbal encouragement from the mostly-white audience, and a little confusing to Theo who didn't understand all the references.

The general themes, however, he found very appealing: life, freedom, love. He didn't need to know exactly what the "veil of the temple" was to understand the empowerment that the pastor was talking about, even though Theo himself had never felt that empowerment. He'd wanted it often enough, longed for it enough, that he could recognize when someone else had it.

Theo raised his head when the pastor finished and the people all chorused "Amen" with him yet again, and was surprised to find that the two empty seats to his right were empty no longer. A tiny girl, maybe seven or eight years old, was standing next to a much older brother or a very young father. They must have snuck in during the prayer.

The pastor handed the microphone back to the singer, and the band started the next set of chords while the pastor returned to his seat. Theo was glad they were doing another song, because the singing was easier to participate in than the talking.

He looked back to the projector screen, ready for the next set of lyrics.

* * *

All in all, the service lasted for nearly two hours, and Theo didn't realize how much time had passed until it was over. They'd sung and sung for what felt like forever, but was really only three very long songs. Then they'd sat and listened to a message that was very passionate, but which Theo didn't completely understand or even care about. The basic theme was the same as the prayer. New life, the freedom it brought, and the love it was born from. By the end of the first ten minutes, he'd picked up on the rhythm of verbal encouragement and chimed in on every fourth or fifth "Amen" or "Yes Lord" or "Hallelujah!" the audience gave the pastor, until Theo was hoarse.

Beside him, Sophie mostly murmured her contributions, staring at the stage with extreme attentiveness. Her singing had been oddly hit-or-miss, with one song where she did alright and two that made it obvious she was tone deaf. Considering she'd also avoided singing those verses, he assumed they were as new to her as they were to him. For his part, Theo was mostly just glad that her bad singing would mask his ignorance. Despite those difficulties, her joy throughout the entire service was transparent.

Before he knew it, he and Sophie were part of a crush of bodies trying to make their way to the exit. As they shuffled along behind the crowd (and yes, this was definitely a fire hazard) Theo took the chance to talk to Sophie.

"You said this was your first time here?"

"I just moved to Brockton Bay!" she told him. "I was looking for the right church, but I think I've found it now!"

"So you'll be here next week?" he probed, wondering why he bothered. It was one thing to disappear from his father's house once in a while, when Max was busy and focused elsewhere. There was no way he could do it twice in a month. Besides, with the talk he'd been overhearing and the nonverbal cues that were being practically shouted at him by the various member of the Empire he'd seen recently, Brockton Bay would be lucky not to be in a no-holds-barred gang war by this time next week.

"Same time, same place," she chirped, unaware of the direction of Theo's thoughts.

Desperate to hold onto that sense of happiness for just a little bit longer, Theo asked the first thing that came to mind. "That last song, you, ah…" he trailed off as he realized there was no good way to ask why her singing on that one hadn't sucked as much as the others.

Sophie laughed. "What can I say? I've had a lot of practice singing that one before. The others were new to me."

Theo nodded as the crowd ahead of them finally started moving at something more than a shuffle. Kids streaked past them, and Sophie seemed content to let them go, which at least made walking easier.

"Do you really feel that way?" he asked. She gave him a questioning look, and he shrugged. "I don't remember the exact words."

"'Pressed but not crushed, persecuted not abandoned,'" she supplied. She shrugged, walking out with him now that they could do so more easily. "I do feel that way. There's a difference in life, between being beaten down and actually being defeated. I've spent a lot of time in the first camp, but the second? No. I _am_ blessed beyond the curse. Doesn't make hard times easy, but it does make us strong enough to endure them."

They walked out of the double doors and into the spring sunlight. It was bright enough that it actually felt like a physical touch of warmth on his skin. Theo was glad he'd rolled up his sleeves earlier, letting himself enjoy this moment now.

Sophie walked down the sidewalk a few steps, then stopped and turned her face upwards toward the sun. Her hair hung down her back, long and gorgeous, and the sunlight glinted off the silver in her glasses, which he realized she'd never removed even in the darker interior of the church.

"So, you actually…" again, Theo realized too late that he'd once again started a question he couldn't finish without sounding like a heel.

She opened her eyes and turned back to look at him. "I believe, if that's what you mean." Theo nodded, not wanted to put his foot in his mouth again. Sophie's face softened, a small sympathetic smile appearing. "You've never seen anything like that, have you?" she asked, gesturing back towards the church

"Not really, no," he admitted.

She kept smiling as she took a step back towards him. "I'm meeting a friend for lunch in just a little bit." Her tone left the statement halfway open, almost an invitation but not quite. Theo glanced at his watch out of habit, and stifled a dirty word. He'd been gone far too long.

"I've gotta get home," he said, hoping it didn't sound like a line.

Sophie didn't stop smiling, so maybe she believed him. "See you around?"

"Maybe," Theo hedged.

"Maybe," she agreed, then she turned and walked down the sidewalk, with a bounce in her step just shy of actually skipping.

For his part, Theo pointed himself in the direction of home and hurried off, praying to anyone that might be listening that his father hadn't noticed he was gone just yet.

* * *

Theo's luck held; when he arrived at home, his father was out and had been for some time. He was able to go upstairs, and just sit for a moment while he tried to compose himself.

What had seemed like an opportune moment for teenage rebellion at the time now looked like a monumentally stupid idea. If Kaiser knew, if Kaiser even suspected, that Theo had disobeyed the Empire's creed the way he had, Kaiser would kill him. Theo was already a disappointment and a blight on his reputation. If someone found out that Theo had defied the Empire's creed - if they tried to use it against his father - Kaiser would cut his losses, as drastically as necessary.

It was cold, but it was the truth. Kaiser was more than capable of murder, even of his own son, and short of a miraculous last-minute trigger event Theo would be helpless to stop him.

Theo couldn't even go to Purity and beg for her help, because she'd up and defected to the Protectorate. Even though he knew it was useless, Theo called her cell phone again, mentally begging her to pick up. She didn't. She'd left Brockton Bay with Aster and never spared Theo a second's thought. It wasn't that he'd necessarily expected anything else, but the abandonment stung all the same.

Despite her unashamed callousness, she was the closest thing Theo had to a good parent. Kaiser was a patriarch, an authority figure, a central part of Theo's life and the standard against which he was measured, but he'd rarely if ever even tried to be a dad. At the very least, Kayden had given him responsibility, trusted him with Aster, cared whether he lived or died. Or so he'd thought.

Theo had considered following her in defecting. He'd _seriously_ considered it, especially when he'd overheard some of the Empire muttering about the possibility that Purity had been responsible for much of the leaked information. Evidently, many of the lower ranks of the Empire were of the opinion that the PRT had decided to break all the rules, and threw in what non-Empire information they had in a poor attempt to disguise Purity's guilt.

The thought had given him courage. If Kayden could do it, could run to the Protectorate, then maybe he could too. He'd been looking for the first chance to leave Max's scrutiny and run to downtown when Kayden Anders had given an interview late on Sunday night, utterly condemning the unmasking and the Empire together. It was the second most controversial interview of the recent past, and it was enough to throw Theo's resolution back into turmoil.

He didn't know what to think.

Well, Theo didn't know what to think about that, but he did know what he thought about his actions earlier in the day. It had been stupid, so _stupid_. He could have enjoyed the same sense of obscurity and freedom at a concert, or a sporting event, or a rave and he wouldn't have risked incurring his father's wrath. Well, not that Kaiser would be pleased if his son was detained for underage drinking, but he would likely never see the need to kill Theo for it, either.

He'd wandered into the church, why? For a pretty girl? Because he thought it would make him look brave? Stupid. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_. She'd probably been on her way to meet her boyfriend for lunch, which was why she hadn't actually invited him. Maybe he'd read that all wrong. There was no way she was actually inviting a total stranger to hang out. That didn't happen, not to Theo.

Theo's phone beeped, and he checked it mechanically. It was the summons he had been dreading - the charge to get dressed for a full Empire Eighty-Eight meeting and be ready for pickup in twenty minutes.

Theo dressed quickly and simply to the standard that was expected of him. A severe two-piece suit, the appropriate tie, the infinity-shaped (or rather, stylized 8) cufflinks, and his dress shoes. The irony was not lost on him that he'd attended a church in his sneakers and was now dressing up for a potentially violent gang gathering.

Theo did not bother to look in the mirror as he left the top floor and went to wait for the Koches. He was unattractive in a way that no amount of dressing up would ever fix and he knew it. In many ways, the lines of the suit made the situation worse.

The knock on the front door came exactly on time, and Theo forced himself to swallow and breathe normally for a few seconds before he stepped out of the house. Immediately, he could feel Mr. Koch evaluating him with a critical eye, before he gestured towards the waiting car.

Mr. Koch was a high-ranked lieutenant in the Empire, but not high enough that he knew exactly who the Anders family was. Theo often attended mass Empire events at the heels of Tracy Koch and her parents, marking him as the child of someone vaguely important without making his parentage explicit. Or at least, that had been the case eight days ago. Perhaps protocols had changed, given that Purity's identity was now known.

Theo followed the directions wordlessly, giving Tracy a nod as he slid into the back seat beside her. They rode in silence to answer Kaiser's summons. The venue in question was an office complex, or rather a moderately sized presentation room inside it. Theo followed Mr. Koch and his family into the room.

Unpowered thugs in ill-fitting suits diffidently ushered Mr. and Mrs. Koch to the second row of seats, where they sat next to Mr. Koch's equals and their spouses. Theo and Tracy were waved to the far right-side of the room, where a separate wing of twenty chairs had been set aside for the Empire's heir-apparents and youngest squad leaders. It was Kaiser's way of encouraging the future of the Empire without directly ranking them against the established order and upsetting the stable applecart.

The Empire's capes were nowhere to be seen, at least not yet, but from the looks of the room Kaiser had invited every Empire member or strong sympathizer who owned a suit. The street-level dealers and enforcers were underrepresented, but everyone who could be trusted to pretend civility and sophistication was here. It was the largest gathering Theo had ever been to, and possibly the largest gathering since Allfather had died and Kaiser won the short but bloody struggle to succeed him.

Theo sat in the plush chair next to Tracy, and within moments William had settled on his other side. Like Tracy, William had the advantage of parentage to give him a leg-up in the Empire. Unlike her, however, he was seated in the promising wing on his own merits. William was one of the Empire's most valuable people in Winslow. He didn't do much directly - no fighting, no tagging, no dealing. Instead, he was the recruiter, the pretty face. It was he who spoke to teachers and students to soften the Empire's image after Dick or Rob had put someone in the hospital. Officially, he wasn't a member, just a strong sympathizer, but he was the most useful sort of sympathizer Kaiser recruited.

By contrast, Tracy was a hanger-on. She was proud to be a part of any group that would make her feel special. Science club, cheerleader, Empire 88. She talked big, but was ultimately just another petty teenager.

"What's going on?" William asked Tracy, as though Theo wasn't sitting right there between them.

Theo ignored the posturing. He didn't assert himself among his peers, and yet they all seemed to feel clever whenever they demonstrated their superiority. Henry sat on William's other side, and Theo looked away quickly. Henry had ostentatiously earned himself a seat as a "rising star" dealer, but Theo was observant enough to know he was actually Hookwolf's bastard son.

It was a miracle he hadn't triggered yet, though maybe that was because he had his sire's sense and temperament and didn't know when he ought to be afraid. Theo had no wish to engage with the wanna-be psychopath.

Unfortunately, looking the other way gave him a clear view of Tracy and the girls in her cohort who had joined her. That whole group reminded Theo of a nest of snakes: weirdly beautiful but mostly cold and deadly. They tittered as they saw his attention, which probably meant they were talking about him.

"Maybe we'll finally get some god-damned marching orders," Henry was speculating to William.

William shrugged. "Perhaps." Theo carefully didn't look over. They were going to get marching orders, all right, but he had no interest in giving any hints that he knew anything of consequence. They'd hear it from the source soon enough.

"Heard you snagged a pair of bitches yesterday," Henry pressed, trying to engage William. The other teen merely nodded, not one to brad. The people who mattered already knew of his status, and William knew when to keep his mouth shut.

That discretion, combined with this earnest faith in the cause, would take William far.

To Theo's relief, Kaiser chose that moment for his grand entrance. He swept in through the double doors with the rest of the Empire's capes trailing in his wake, and the doormen shut the doors behind him. He marched up the center of the room, with his parahuman lieutenants at his heels, and ascended the stage like a king.

Slowly, haphazardly, the Empire Eighty-Eight drew itself to its feet in respect. Once onstage, the villains arranged themselves behind his father, a wall of impressive firepower, and Kaiser stepped up to the podium. He raised his hands for silence, which was mostly already present, and spoke into the microphone.

"Welcome, brothers and sisters," Kaiser orated. "Please, be seated." There was a prolonged rustling as everyone sat back down, smoothed their skirts or slacks, and fidgeted into a comfortable position.

"We are here tonight to answer an insult which we can no longer endure," he continued, his voice carrying even without the electronic help. Kaiser was a good speaker, a persuasive and powerful figure; Theo had seen this before. It was just one of the many ways in which he would never, could never, measure up to his father's legacy.

"How long have we protected this city, and received nothing but scorn in payment? How long have we watched lesser men destroy our home one crime at a time?"

Kaiser knew how to stand, how to scan the audience, how to project his voice to portray confidence and power. His metal wasn't just a suit of armor; it shifted in subtle and organic ways to give him an air of dynamic power. It reminded everyone that they were listening to a dangerous man. Theo could look at Kaiser, listen to his opening remarks, and understand why it worked. He just couldn't do it himself.

"This ends today, my brothers. Our enemies thought to provoke us. They thought they could shame us. I tell you, we are not _ashamed_! We will not be silenced by the blindness of those to weak to see the truth."

Theo glanced around the audience, idly noticing the way that Kaiser's speech drew people in. It wasn't so different from the church, really. Well, a normal church anyway. For these people, Kaiser was their pastor, their indoctrinator. Theo discreetly glanced at Tracy, who was doing a good impression of listening attentively. Her disregard wasn't a lack of belief, but a casual acceptance of it. She'd heard such things many times before.

Theo tuned back into Kaiser's speech as he shifted from the introduction into the first hint of real content. "...Some have said that it was Purity who betrayed us. I assure you all, there is no chance of this. Purity herself was betrayed and arrested in her civilian life, as the first strike against us all. They have struck the first blow in this battle, but it does not matter. We will have the last victory!"

Theo considered the proclamation. Kaiser was absolving Purity of any blame, but not the PRT. Did Kaiser think it would make him look weak, to have been betrayed by the cape that many had seen as his second in command? Was he leaving the door open for Purity to come back?

"...We have been quiet long enough! It is time that we make clear to everyone that we are the rightful rulers of Brockton Bay! Have we not protected the streets? Do we not fight day in and day out against the cancer in this city? It is time to make our power known to the world.

"For decades, we have fought cautiously. We have advanced the cause with care, with compassion. Now they have spit in our faces, and we will not stand for it."

There was a soft rumble of agreement from the crowd. Though very few of them had been directly hurt by the unmasking, they all identified with the attack.

"We have tried the slow and steady fight, to no avail! Lung and his slant-eyed lowlifes continue to consume the Docks, as the Protectorate stands by and watches!"

The room stirred again, though not audibly. Instead there was an emotional intensity - shared fear, shared conviction, shared insult. "Coil has been gone two weeks, and already the black bastard and his Merchants are trying to move into his empty place, poisoning our schools and our children!"

Theo shut his eyes just for a moment, and beside him he felt both William and Tracy inflate. They were sitting straighter, chins up, ready and eager to hear what Kaiser would have to say to their generation.

"No more! We will wipe out those who plague our schools - those scum by birth and those who have become scum by their own willing association with weakness. All those who would prey upon our strength will learn the true meaning of the strength of our youth…"

Theo winced, knowing that the next part of Kaiser's speech would be about the future. The shining vision Kaiser always promised to the children of the Empire, the heirs. As Kaiser went on, drawing the people in with his charisma, Theo noticed again that his father never made eye contact with his son. He gestured, generally, to the wing of chairs where the teens and older children were seated. He called out a few specific high performers, praising them for stepping up.

But he never so much as glanced at Theo. Theo was not part of his father's promise, not strong enough to lead the Empire or even good enough to help it.

The familiar weight of his father's disappointment settled fully on Theo. Around him, teenagers were puffing themselves up, preening subtly, and exchanging glances. They believed. They were proud.

It wasn't just the disappointment that haunted Theo: it was loneliness too. Why didn't he believe in his father's preaching? He'd been raised in it, indoctrinated from a young age, and yet he'd never really been able to buy into the idealism at a gut-level. Maybe it was because Kaiser himself wasn't a true supremacist, and Theo had subconsciously picked up on that? He wished, more often that he cared to confess, that he could believe in the Empire's creed, could just fit in.

It was worse: the re-settling of the guilt, the longing, the shame, and the isolation. He'd been free of it all for just a few hours, and he'd thought that would make his life better. He'd imagined that it would feel powerful, to sit in a meeting like this and know that he'd defied his father.

Instead he felt empty and weak. The pain was worse for the reprieve, not better. Before, he'd been accustomed to the weight. Now he felt like he would crumble from it. He didn't feel brave or strong for having broken the rules, he felt like a coward for coming back. He should have gone to the PRT, should have turned his father in before more people died, and yet he hadn't.

"...Each of you will have a part to play!" Kaiser promised softly, drawing his people in through the tone's intensity alone. _Drawing in everyone but Theo._ "Each of you bring strength and potential to our cause!" _Except the fat kid that no one, not even Purity, wants._ "Each of you will be needed! In just a few short days, the floodwaters will break open. On that day, we will call upon you. Let every man answer that call, and take in blood the payment we are owed."

Theo felt vaguely sick as he listened to the audience murmur their agreement and encouragement. His father was talking about destroying lives, and these sheep were willing to help him.

It would be one thing, if they were all passionate men and women, willing to stand up and shout for their convictions. It would be different, if they were all so fired up that they simply couldn't contain themselves. Instead they sat and murmured sedately. Theo saw through them with a glance. William was eager to finally throw off his refined mask and become a full member. Henry was nearly salivating, no doubt picturing a particular victim already. Tracy was sitting up now, eyes wide and shining, as she imagined her enemies falling before her.

Theo tried to guess if Tracy would be actually capable of visiting physical violence on those she saw as lesser, or if her nerve would fail her when the damage she was called upon to inflict was no longer only emotional. He found he wasn't able to decide, and realized that both possibilities sickened him equally. Which was worse- to hate to the point of killing, or to truly believe in a cause but be unwilling to act?

* * *

After Kaiser's speech, the adults stood up and mingled awhile. Kaiser and his highest-ranked underlings made their way through the crowd, giving orders and encouragement. At one point, Kaiser came within arm's reach of Theo. He gave his son a glance, then turned to one of the other nearby teens and drew him into a private conversation.

For his part, Theo mostly floated along behind William. The other teen was a true believer, but not a hate-mongerer, which made him the person Theo could tolerate most easily within his age group. For his part, William allowed Theo to shadow him out of a vague sense that Theo was someone important, and also someone unlikely to undermine his authority.

It was odd, to bob along behind a charismatic teen for the second time that day. Sophie had made instant connections in a crowd of strangers, with nothing more than a smile and a quick greeting. William gave the same hand-shakes, wishing people Happy Easter and offering more detailed greetings and inquiries about girlfriends and classes. Like Sophie, he oozed welcomeness and openness.

And yet… somehow… Theo felt more out of place here than he had in the church. Perhaps because people were looking at him more. Perhaps because he knew he had seen these teens before and would see many of them at school again soon. Perhaps because he didn't know what he believed about God, but did know he didn't believe in the Empire.

It was too overwhelming to sort out now. Theo pushed it aside so that he could do his part, smiling, nodding at jokes, and quietly sipping his water cup to avoid having to speak too much.

As the event wound down, Tracy found him and Theo followed her back out to the Koches' vehicle. He ignored Tracy's catty recounting of the evening's teen politics to her parents, and was glad to see the family drive away from his doorstep. Then Theo opened the front door and stepped into the dark house.

For a long moment he just stood in the entryway, leaning back against the closed door, alone in the silence and the night. Numbly, he pulled out his phone and dialed Kayden. She still didn't answer. Theo dropped the phone back into his pocket, his breathing echoing in the empty house.

For a moment, he felt like he was alone in the world.

But the fantasy crashed and broke apart almost immediately. If he really was alone in the world, he wouldn't be able to disappoint his father. He wouldn't be able to feel those judging eyes on his skin even now, as he was found wanting time and time again. Even here, alone, with no one watching, he could feel that cold evaluation.

Why couldn't he make his father understand? Why did no one ever try to see the world like Theo himself saw it? Theo spent so much time - his whole life, really - watching people and trying to understand them. Why did no one ever seem to do the same for him?

A sob escaped him, but only one. Immediately, Theo clamped his mouth shut, holding his breath to prevent another. The pain would pass. The pressure would remain, and build, but the pain would go. It was just hard because it felt new and fresh, again. It would dull soon, become the background ache that he lived with day in and day out.

Perhaps that was why no one ever tried to see it his way; perhaps they knew how painful it was to be Theo Anders. Theo breathed in and out through his nose, trying desperately not to hate himself and failing. He wasn't strong enough for his father, wasn't good enough for Kayden, wasn't superior enough for his peers and wasn't brave enough for himself.

He wished, oh how he wished, that he could muster the courage to do _something_. Why were the PRT delaying? They knew who the Empire was, now. Why wasn't the PRT willing to step up and deal with the truth? The media was willing to see, but only in a weird fetish-stalker sort of way that didn't help anyone. Why were they all going to let Kaiser do this?

Why was _Theo_ going to let him?

Theo swallowed heavily, choking down the sob that wanted to escape, and shut his eyes. The blackness behind his eyelids wasn't much different than what he saw with them open, and it didn't matter anyway. Not really. Theo would always be alone in the world. No one would ever want to see things as he saw them, and so for the moment he was simply going to follow their example, and refuse to see anything at all. Just for a moment.

 _ **Destination.**_

Falling through the far reaches of space, truly alone, watching writhing masses of stars as they approached a distant blue point.

 _ **Agreement.**_

Lights flaking away like dandruff. Stars blotted out by the shadow of the colossus.

 _ **Caution.**_

A tiny prick of light, nothing in comparison to the stars around them, was falling with purpose. It was coming towards the awareness that was Theo, growing as it descended. It became a glowing ball, and then an orb as tall as he was, and then it was the size of a house and then the size of a manor. It was hard to tell how far away it was, because just when Theo thought he could have touched it if only he had a body it would double in size again and Theo would realize it was much bigger than he had thought and much farther away. Soon he could see nothing in any direction except the brilliant eye-watering expanse of light.

 _ **Confidence.**_

Theo opened his eyes after an eternal second. Something felt… different. Wrong. Had he heard a noise in the house? He reached out and flipped on the chandelier, then walked to the hallway and turned on that light, too. He walked into the kitchen, and then the living room, and then the parlor and his dad's office, leaving the lights on behind him as he went.

It took ten minutes to walk through the entire house and double check that every door was locked and every shower was empty, before Theo was satisfied that the house really was as deserted as he'd thought. When it was done, he breathed a sigh of relief and reached for his phone.

Then he froze, one thumb hovering over the screen, staring down at it. This was the first time he'd wanted to call Kayden not because he was scared or alone or ashamed, but because he wanted to check on _her_. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his gut and some voice whispered that it might be about her. It might be about Aster. They might need help. It was stupid and ridiculous, but it was what he would have done before she left. For the first time in two weeks, Theo wanted to call Kayden not because she was gone but because he'd _forgotten_ she was gone.

But forgetting didn't change the facts. She had left. She'd turned herself in. And despite what Kaiser had said, Theo was pretty sure she'd turned in the Empire too. What would happen to him, when Kaiser was finally arrested or killed? Would he go to live with Kayden? Would he go to a foster family?

How long before he was killed for daring to be the son of a Neo-Nazi?

It was that last thought that finally, _finally_ , gave Theo the courage he needed to act. He wanted to live, he _did_ , even alone and weak he wanted to survive, and he certain didn't want to die for a cause he didn't believe in.

His phone was already out, in his hand. With shaking fingers, Theo looked up the PRT hotline number, and then dialed.

* * *

Author's Note: I apologize profusely for the words and sentiments expressed in the Empire portion of this chapter. I do not believe in or condone such statements, and I tried very much to avoid repeating them here. Ultimately, it became apparent that they were needed to give the chapter realism. Nevertheless, I am sorry if I have caused any offense.


	50. Paperwork

**Chapter Fifty: Paperwork**

Form C-0400  
Cape Encounter, Summary Sheet

Date: 25 April 2011  
Employee: Deputy Director Renick  
Employee number: 908763  
File Number: 445360

Date & Time of Encounter: 24 April 2011. 23:43  
Location of Encounter: PRT building. Lobby, 1st floor, holding cells, Master/Stranger cells

Responders: PRT Agents Buckley, Morris, Robinson; Lieutenant Bradshaw; Captain Thomas; Deputy Director Renick; Director Piggot  
Cape(s) Encountered: Theodore Anders  
Other Witnesses: Various PRT agents and employees, see MS-8040-445360, Exposure to Master/Stranger Influence, for reference

Summary of Events: Theo Anders entered the PRT lobby at 23:43 and requested to speak with a PRT agent as a confidential informant. He engaged Agent Buckley, sitting at the front desk, for six minutes. At the end of this time, Agent Buckley input her authorization code and stood to shake Anders' hand as she pointed him toward the access elevators. Agent Morris observed the unusual gesture and triggered MS code four. Anders was detained with only a minor struggle and isolated immediately.

Resolution: Anders insists that he is not a parahuman and has never triggered. He is passingly familiar with cape terms and cape code, which he claimed he learned by living with his father, Maxwell Anders, AKA Kaiser.

Further Reference: See MS-8040-445360 for details on MS response. See C-0401-445360 for detailed timeline. See C-0402-445360 for detailed witness statements. See C-5352-445360 for details on Anders' apparent powers. See attachment C-0499-445360 for further details. See P-3233-132465 for Anders' testimony concerning Kaiser.

* * *

Form C-5352  
Cape Encounter, Power Summary

Date: 25 April 2011  
Employee: Deputy Director Renick  
Employee number: 908763  
File Number: 445360

Date & Time of Encounter: 24 April 2011. 23:43  
Location of Encounter: PRT building. Lobby, 1st floor, holding cells, Master/Stranger cells

Cape Name: Projection (temporary)  
Cape Reference Number: 19403

Description of Power Effects: Projection made himself seem convincing, charismatic, and reasonable. Without altering his physical appearance or changing the actual perception of his victim, Projection implanted the impression of physical attractiveness. (Projection is a white teenager of average physical appearance, a bit heavy-set.) Of note: Projection did not convince Buckley to do anything particularly uncharacteristic. Buckley was convinced to admit Projection into the PRT. It is Buckley's job to make these judgement calls, and she routinely admits civilians and capes as necessary.

Power Mechanics (if Known): In just six minutes, Projection compromised Agent Buckley's judgement and personal preferences while at a distance of a few feet. He was unable to similarly compromise Agents Robinson and Morris once they were alerted. Contact with Robinson and Morris lasted only two minutes prior to containment, and Projection was kept at a minimum distance of three feet.

Buckley was not deceived at any point, only her perception of and reaction to the events were altered. Her testimony is entirely coherent. The effect appeared to wear off after thirty minutes, and her natural response of alarm returned. A review of the security footage reveals that Projection touched Buckley only after she was compromised.

Suggested Power Ranking: Master 2, Stranger 1

Further Reference: See C-0400-445360 for encounter summary and full reference list. See attachment (C-0499-445360) for personal statement.

* * *

Form C-0499  
Cape Encounter, Attachment

Date: 25 April 2011  
Employee: Deputy Director Renick  
Employee number: 908763  
File Number: 445360

It is the opinion of this agent that Theodore Anders AKA Projection (temporary) is not dangerous. Anders testified that he is not a parahuman, and all analyses of his interrogations under Master/Stranger protocols indicate that he was not lying as he knew it.

I believe that Theodore Anders is a new trigger. As a third generation parahuman, it is likely that his threshold for triggering is as low as or even lower than a second generation parahuman. If Theo Anders was alone when he triggered with a non-physical power after a mentally rather than physically stressful trigger event, it is not unreasonable that he might have remained unaware of his new status.

This casts the events of the last several hours in a different light. If Theo did not know he was a Master, or even a parahuman, then this was not an attack, but an honest attempt to seek sanctuary and inform on his father. It would be unwise of the PRT to alienate a potential source of information from within Kaiser's inner circle over what is ultimately a misunderstanding.

Whether Theo Anders is suitable for inclusion in the Wards is a separate issue which must be carefully considered, but at the very least it would be ill considered not to hear his testimony.

* * *

Coversheet, Facsimile.

Department of Justice, Brockton Bay  
United States of America, East-North-East

Attn: Director Emily Piggot, Parahuman Response Team

Contents:

1- Warrant for arrest: Max Anders

2- Waiver of parahuman rights: Kaiser

3- Warrant for arrest: Nessa Biermann

4- Waiver of parahuman rights: Menja

5- Warrant for arrest: Jessica Biermann

6- Waiver of parahuman rights: Fenja

7- Warrant for arrest: Robert Hiens

8- Waiver of parahuman rights: Stormtiger

9- Warrant for arrest: Bianca Herren

10- Waiver of parahuman rights: Rune

11- Warrant for arrest: Kayla Seed

12- Waiver of parahuman rights: Cricket

13- Warrant for arrest: Harold Kelsing

14- Waiver of parahuman rights: Viktor

Pg 1 of 36

Facsimile. 10:34:03 26 April 2011

* * *

 _Report notes_

 _Last saved: 11:42:03 PM 27 April 2011_

 _File path: O:/share/Protectorate/Miss Militia/Personal/Notes/Report notes_

INTRODUCTION:

It's critical to understand what we knew and when we knew it. No judgement call exists in a vacuum and the events of April 26th and 27th are no different than any other in that regard. Every decision was the best possible decision, given the available resources and knowledge at the time it was made. I will stand by that.

The destruction of the last two days was made possible by a conspiracy of coincidences and accidents which

As difficult as these days have been

I have every confidence in the decisions we made, and especially in Armsmaster's tactical deployments over the last two days.

The last two days have been hard for Brockton bay and for the Protectorate team. However, we must keep in mind all that we have accomplished and the opportunities this upheaval provides. The Empire is severely weakened and the Merchants nearly destroyed.

After my experience over the last two days, I can strongly recommend that every Protectorate team be co-lead by two or more parahumans. The flexibility in response, in always using the right man for the job, cannot be overstated. Together, Armsmaster and I did what neither of us could have managed alone.

Now that the storm we knew was coming has been weathered, it is important to understand how and why judgement calls were made as they were made. It is not as simple as just saying that the code was broken and violence followed as a result. We need to evaluate the circumstance so that we can prepare ourselves in the future in case of

[-]

 _Screw it,_ she thought, looking over the various false starts and hating them all equally. _I'll come back to the introduction. No one cares about that anyway._

Miss Militia paused, thinking about what to record next. Eventually, the information would be sorted into a dozen different forms and filed appropriately, but for now she just wanted to get it all on paper in one place, so she could try to internalize everything.

Perhaps the timeline would be a good place to start. She'd need to check the timestamps later for complete accuracy, but her own memory was pretty good. She'd start there.

[-]

TIMELINE:

 **(1) Asian Marketplace**

3:00 pm - Patrol change, Miss Militia, Dauntless, Velocity on patrol in city. Assault and Battery relieved of duty.

3:0? pm - Stormtiger and Rune go to ABB Market unmasked

3:10 pm - first calls come to Protectorate switchboard. Armsmaster directs MM, D, V, to Market, calls A&B back to Protectorate rig on standby, sends text alert to Triumph and Aegis

3:15 pm - MM, D, V receive confirmation of cape action while en route to scene; arrive.

3:22 pm - Oni Lee arrives at Market, uses non-standard munitions. Bakuda not in sight. Backup requested. A&B dispatched to scene. (Later re-routed*)

3:32 pm - Kaiser arrives with Othala, Cricket, Alabaster to assist E88. Othala able to counter some of Bakuda's bombs.

3:40 pm - Armsmaster requests New Wave help at ABB Market. Lady Photon and Shielder on patrol.

3:44 pm - Lady Photon and Shielder arrive.

3:45 pm - Armsmaster leaves for ABB market.

3:45 pm - Faultline's Crew arrives; assists heroes

3:45 pm - all Wards moved to level 2 alert.**

3:47 pm - Bakuda and 13 unpowered ABB members arrive.

3:48 pm - Krieg arrives at market.

3:52 pm - Armsmaster arrives at Market.

3:58 pm - remaining New Wave arrives on scene.

4:02 pm - Kaiser retreats with injured (Othala, Stormtiger, Rune). Alabaster, Krieg and Cricket cover retreat.

4:03 pm - heroes remain engaged with ABB (Oni Lee and Bakuda). Faultline's Crew remains aligned with heroes.

4:15 pm - Lung arrives at Market. Armsmaster deploys tranquilizers, Oni Lee deflects. Heroes retreat with FC.

 **(2) Eighth St and Reagan Way, Near Briar Middle School**

3:20 pm - calls come to Protectorate switchboard that Menja and Fenja are at large near Briar Middle School, nominally in Merchant territory. Triumph and Aegis closest to scene, dispatched to verify tip.

3:25 pm - Triumph and Aegis arrive, cannot confirm Empire presence.

3:26 pm - Trainwreck intercepts Triumph and Aegis as they exit scene; has superior armor to previous encounters. Assault and Battery, previously headed toward market, are re-routed to encounter 2*

3:30 pm - A&B arrive

3:32 pm - Armsmaster in constant verbal contact with Battery and other heroes; uses analysis software to break down tech weaknesses

3:44 pm - Armsmaster instructs Battery how to short out Trainwreck's system.

3:44 pm - A&B redirect to Equine Apartments in response to tips regarding Menja and Fenja; Triumph and Aegis remain to bring in Trainwreck.

3:46 pm - PRT Squad 2 dispatched to Triumph and Aegis to transport Trainwreck and equipment.

3:50 pm - PRT Squad 2 arrives on scene. Trainwreck in custody. T&A sent to support A&B at Equine Apartments.

 **(3) Equine Apartments, Equine Ave between Mammoth and Hill St. (Border of E88 and Merchant territory. Residential/apartments.)**

3:37 pm - Menja and Fenja engage Mush at E88/Merchant territory border. Calls flood switchboard.

3:37 pm - PRT Squad 1 dispatched to scene.

3:? pm - PRT Squad 1 leave for scene.

3:44 pm - First reports of Skidmark involvement.

3:47 pm - A&B arrive. Report that fight is somewhat contained; minimal civilian presence. Minor property damage.

3:50 pm - Night and Fog arrive at apartments, supporting M&F.

3:51 pm - Kid Win, Intrepid, and Vista dispatched to Equine Apartments***

3:52 pm - Triumph and Aegis arrive at Equine. Aegis able to modify biology to keep eyes on Night.

3:56 pm - Kid Win, Intrepid, and Vista arrive

4:00 pm - M&F disengage from heroes in order to inflict greater property damage. M&F also showing disregard for civilian life. All Wards concentrate fighting on M&F. M&F retreat further within the apartment complex. Wards drawn away from Night and Fog to pursue.

4:06 pm - Night and Fog fully occupied by Mush, Skidmark, and arriving Merchant unpowered backup. A&B go around apartment complex to try to cut off M&F.

4:10 pm - M&F forgo fighting and property damage to retreat at full speed. A&B direct Wards on scene to let them go, instead returning to Equine St in front of apartments.

4:12 pm - Heroes observe aftermath of Night and Fog from a distance. Squealer is tending to Merchant dead, including Mush and Skidmark. Night and Fog not present, presumably retreated.

4:15 pm - Heroes retreat from scene at word that Lung is sighted elsewhere.

END First Wave. AFTERMATH: Armsmaster, A&B, and T&A patrol borders of all three encounters. MM and Armsmaster debrief with individual heroes over comm links.

5 pm - Full Wards team takes over patrols.

* Incident at Briar Middle determined to be higher priority despite lower threat. Middle school less than 2 blocks away, campus not contained, no evacuation route available, many students still present for after school events.

** Wards moved to alert, awaiting next incident. Krieg and Crusader were at that time unaccounted for. Also, very few unpowered E88 members were present. Another split-pronged attacked seemed likely.

*** Wards chosen for their mobility and previous combat experience

Standards broken:

A- insufficient PRT backup for number of capes in the field

B- Insufficient time lapse for New Wave contact

C- Insufficient evidence of E88 presence at Briar Middle

Mitigation:

A- Cape responses necessary for flexibility and mobility. Cape response preferable for image; responding to E88 (unmasked) with PRT soldiers sends wrong message to public and capes. PRT squads forbidden from deep-ABB territory action, concerns with extraction from Lung situations. PRT squads not ideal for Briar Middle School - again, images of soldiers near 6th graders.

B- Backup needed immediately. New Wave was already en route when contacted, had heard about the commotion. Early communication allowed better field action. Coordination with New Wave allowed confident distribution of resources to Equine Apartments encounter.

C- it's kids. We couldn't take the chance.

[-]

She rubbed her eyes, trying to think of a better way to word it. There really wasn't one - that had been her only thought at the time. _Whatever._ She'd come back and fix it later. _This is just a first pass anyway._

[-]

NOTE: It was later discovered that Skidmark did not die on scene from his injuries, caused by Night. Skidmark and two other gang members were removed from the scene by Squealer and her crew, dying later in another location. This was not known until late on the evening of April 27, when his body was discovered.

NOTE: Initial estimates of the injured and dead at the ABB Market varied. After action reports suggest somewhere between ten and twenty civilians injured, in addition to the eight initial injuries evacuated by Velocity and the three civilians dead on scene when the Protectorate first arrived. Careful review of helmet cam and newsfeed footage now suggests only eight civilians were injured after the Protectorate arrived on scene. Most civilians managed to flee early.

 **(4) The March, and the Line**

7 pm - Kaiser airs second speech, justifying attack. Claims to have evidence that warrants were being prepared for Empire 88's arrest. Demands return of his son, whom he claims has been kidnapped by PRT. Does not name his son.

7:08 pm - while video is still airing, first calls from "coin flip blocks" come in. Callers report that Empire capes and non-powered men are "marching" south down Rosewood, Ash, and Beech: Streets headed for the docks and heart of the ABB territory, maiming every non-white they encounter.

NOTE: Prior to April 26, this area was known as the coin flip blocks. The nine blocks boarded by Blossom Place on the south, Rosewood on the west, Ash on the east, and Pine on the north, were frequently in dispute by the Empire and the ABB. Beech St runs N to S up the center of this disputed territory.

7:09 pm - efforts to confirm reports are shaky; suspect another diversion like Briar Middle. Responding to another incident in nominally ABB territory would guarantee an encounter with the ABB, regardless of whether the Empire was there or not.

7:10 pm - reports escalate. Rumor that Oni Lee is responding with more Bakuda munitions.

7:11 pm - A&B sent to investigate reports.

7:14 pm - call from New Wave; patrol of Glory Girl, Laserdream and Shielder confirms reports.

7:16 pm - First reports of Lung responding to Empire's march.

7:17 pm - call from New Wave; full team engaged with march.

7:18 pm - A&B arrive on scene. Dauntless dispatched from Rig. (Heroes held in reserve, waiting for another split attack)

7:23 pm - call from New Wave, report of a "bomb line" ahead of E88 march, in their path. Bakuda on scene, threatening early detonation. NW make call to retreat.

7:25 pm - Assault, Battery, Dauntless all confirm that Empire is retreating from bomb threat on all three streets.

7:44 pm - sweep of area reveals Viktor, dead of massive blunt force trauma. Initial report concludes he was likely overwhelmed by a mass of un-powered civilians in the area. Civilians are offered evacuation to the nearest hospital or shelter; many refuse.

7:53 pm - Armsmaster investigates "bomb line." Bakuda had positioned a daisy chain of tinkertech devices (bombs) down the center of Blossom Place. This line stretches east-to-west for 2 miles, centered on Beech St. Bakuda deployed one bomb, presumably as demonstration to Kaiser. The bomb "melted" everything within 20 yards of itself. The asphalt, as well as bricks, concrete, metal, glass, and fiberglass all show signs of a loss of central integrity, despite vastly different melting points. The area now appears to have re-solidified, but this has not been confirmed.

8:00 pm - Brockton Bay Police and PRT issue joint statement - declare Blossom Place to be a public safety hazard, shut down all traffic within one block of the "bomb line" and begin to set up barriers. Radio and news broadcasts are made. CIs inform PRT that Lung is rumored to have Bakuda's detonator - Bakuda may or may not be dead.

8:30 pm - PRT authorizes "full war" strike on Empire. New Wave alerted.

8:55 pm - New Wave youth arrive at PRT base to coordinate with Wards. NW adults replace Protectorate city patrol.

Standards broken:

Mitigation:

[-]

She left those two sections empty.

 _We had a bomb tinker trapping our streets, and the Empire provoking them into doing it. The state of Viktor's body suggests civilian-on-cape violence at a level not seen in a few years, at least not in America._

Who cared about which suggested protocols they had stretched or why?

[-]

 **(5) Empire Safe House**

9:01 pm - Protectorate and 4 PRT squads strike Empire base of operations. (Suspected underground Empire clinic, located in same building, is confirmed after initial breach.) All Empire capes accounted for in fight.

9:30 pm - Krieg captured and removed from premises by PRT.

9:35 pm - Stormtiger captured and Triumph injured, both removed from premises.

9:45 pm - PRT retreat. Krieg, Stormtiger, Triumph taken to Brockton Bay General by Squad 3.

For details, see relevant report.

12:02 am - Eidolon arrives in Brockton Bay to assist.

6? am - Purity granted leave to come to Brockton Bay and assist. Assigned to Eidolon's custody. Predicts Kaiser will search for an easy win. Encourages Dragon to try to find Squealer, as the only remaining Merchant cape.

 **(6) Palanquin**

9 am - anonymous tip that Kaiser is going after Faultline's Crew. Purity urges the tip be taken seriously, as the easy win. PRT attempts contact with Faultline by phone with no answer. Miss Militia and Velocity depart for club run by Faultline to offer warning.

9:08 am - Miss Militia and Velocity arrive at Club minutes before Empire. Faultline grants an audience in the floor of the club. Does not explain why the Crew helped at the ABB Market, but does seem willing to heed the anonymous warning.

9:10 am - Empire arrives: Alabaster, Menja, Fenja, Crusader, Rune, Cricket.

9:10 am - Faultline's support staff severely injured by initial assault. One club employee dead.

9:11 am - Assault, Battery, Aegis, Eidolon and Purity dispatched to club.

9:24 am - Fenja dies from prolonged contact with Newter; was trying to crush him in her bare hands.

9:37 am - Empire retreats. Spitfire rushed to Brockton General to detox from near-fatal hallucinogen overdose; Newter used against her by Menja. Battery severely injured; Assault escorts her to Brockton General.

9:37 am - Eidolon and Purity pursue Empire with permission. Crusader captured.

10:30-11:00 am - general reports of gang violence begin to solidify. Encounters between unpowered Empire and ABB breaking out everywhere. BBPD request PRT Squads for backup in case of cape interference. PRT Squads 3 and 4 dispatched.

 **(7) Winslow High School**

11:02 am - Beetle and Intrepid called to respond to gunfire near Winslow. Contract dispatched to Winslow also.

11:04 am - confirmed gunfire between unpowered Empire member and unpowered Merchant members. Violence moves toward school; Beetle and Intrepid unable to curb without escalation.

11:10 am - Kaiser, Night, Fog, Othala arrive near fire-fight, now one block from Winslow. Reports of students leaving class to join fight.

11:11 am - PRT squad dispatched to Winslow with Armsmaster, Miss Militia, Dauntless, Velocity, Triumph, Eidolon and Purity as support.

11:12 am - Contract arrives at Winslow, Faultline's Crew also arrives.*

11:18 am - Empire already in retreat as Protectorate arrives.

*no, I don't know how they knew to show up.

[-]

Miss Militia stared at the sentence, then removed the notation. It bothered her quite a bit that Faultline's Crew knew to go to Winslow. Given the distance and the difficulty the Crew had in traveling, they had to have either known ahead of time, or else they had been informed almost immediately.

But that was a question she didn't have an answer to, and it was better not to draw attention to that sort of thing. Any other day, each of these incidents would have required its own detailed report. Now, however, the PRT just needed something they could read, and fast. They wouldn't be asking deep questions. Not yet.

[-]

NOTE: in the aftermath of this fight, many Winslow students are missing. So far, there are no confirmed student deaths or serious injuries. However, given the likelihood that the gangs would have tried to carry away their dead, this is inconclusive.

NOTE: Faultline still refuses to tell the PRT who is paying her Crew to assist the heroes. Does request meeting with Contract in one week.

 **(8) Bomb Line**

3:30 pm - explosion at Bakuda's bomb line, which was expanded over night to cover 6 miles of Blossom place, with more isolated devices elsewhere. Bombs are not hidden, and do not appear to be tied to timers.

3:35 pm - Armsmaster receives permission to investigate explosions.*

*Final conclusions: Approximately 25% of the visible devices have detonated. Of the 32 detonated bombs, only 6 appear to have had similar effects. All had a significant radius of destruction, through few were large enough to reach past the edges of four-lane street. Not all areas of affect were circular. Initial explosion appears to be very near the intersection of Blossom and Beech. The area has been converted entirely into glass, with damage from other near-by explosions chipping the outer layers of the area.

3:45 pm - Kaiser and remaining Empire at bomb line when Armsmaster arrives. Glass statues appearing to be Rune and Cricket are discovered. No one tries to cross Blossom Place.

3:48 pm - Clockblocker and Vista dispatched to patrol docks and ABB territory. Armsmaster is technically in ABB territory, while Kaiser remains on the Empire side of the bomb line.

3:50 pm - Beetle and Contract dispatched to assist Armsmaster. Hope is that Beetle can safely scout out bombs, or that Contract can neutralize them, either with telekinesis or other power applications.

3:55 pm - Othala tries to dispatch a bomb with an unpowered lieutenant; bomb explodes, producing hurricane-level winds. Othala is picked up and thrown to the Protectorate side of the line. Lands unconscious. Lieutenant powered by Othala also ends up on the south side of Blossom.

4:01 pm - Kid Win and Gallant dispatched to bomb line for tinker and firepower support.

4:02 pm - Empire retreats without violence, concedes Othala to Armsmaster's custody. Armsmaster elects to allow them to leave unmolested.

6 pm - Kaiser calls for truce. See separate report.

[-]

There they were. All the relevant events. Laid out in order, with some semblance of logic to hold them together. She'd have to check the timestamps for some of the events, but the debriefings had all been thorough enough that she knew they were close.

It was supposed to be cathartic, to get something like this out of your head. To line it all up and say "first this, then that" and understand it. But Miss Militia didn't feel like she did understand it.

Rune, Fenja, Cricket and Viktor were dead. Stormtiger, Krieg, Othala, and Crusader had been injured and arrested. Battery was still in the ICU, and Triumph would be in therapy for months if he didn't see Panacea. The Merchants had been decimated, and Faultline's Crew would have been too if not for the anonymous tip that had put Miss Militia and Velocity there to help them and call in faster reinforcements.

Why? The Empire hadn't gained anything. Homes had been destroyed, and they were still counting the civilian missing, injured and dead, and for what?

Miss Militia felt weary, mentally tired, but she knew she needed to finish the report. Kaiser had offered a truce, but only until a peace talk could be arranged for the following night. The PRT needed to understand all that had happened in the last two days so that they could decide if they were going to agree to meet with Kaiser, and what they would demand from him if they did.

Miss Militia wished them good luck. For her own part, she didn't know what to make of everything. It was tempting to say that this was all the result of Coil's list, but that didn't feel quite correct. The city had been living under pressure for months, and the warrants had merely been the spark that set it off.

She already knew the questions that would be asked. They were some of the first English she'd ever learned: _What happened? How did it get so out of hand? What should you have done differently? Who can we blame?_

Well, the situation had been described. She didn't feel like going back and polishing it up at the moment. It would be better to draft out an attempt at the other explanations that would be requested.

[-]

It is obvious in retrospect that Kaiser did not expect a defense nearly as competent as the one leveled against him. He split his forces to compel the Protectorate to split ours, but support from New Wave, Faultline's Crew, and the Wards limited the effectiveness of the tactic. Purity also insists that Kaiser was not always in control of his own people.

Given what she remembers of the organization and what she can guess from the debriefings, Purity speculates that only the first wave of attacks, the march, and possibly the attack on Faultline were formally authorized. She believes he was pressured into responding to the incident at Winslow High School in order to rescue his younger members and to save face, which fits with my own observations of the encounters. She also theorizes that the viciousness of the attack against the Merchants was likely not fully authorized.

I wish to commend Purity for her aid, particularly her analysis of Kaiser's strategy and character. She carried the mantle of hero well, given her past, and did not waiver at any time.

It is my recommendation that Theo Anders not be returned to his father's custody for any reason. Kaiser is now weak and no longer a credible threat to Brockton Bay. Theo's powers are not the sort that would allow him to defend himself, if he is blamed for the Empire's recent losses.

I also wish to make special note of the valiancy of Assault and Battery, who responded to several situations with little or no solid intelligence of the threat they would face. Given Battery's injuries, I believe…

* * *

Form C-0400  
Cape Encounter, Summary Sheet

Date: 26 April 2011  
Employee: Miss Militia  
Employee number: 300403  
File Number: 445361

Date & Time of Encounter: 26 April 2011. 15:15 - 16:15  
Location of Encounter: 400 block, Hyde St. (Asian street market)

Responders: Miss Militia, Velocity, Dauntless, Armsmaster, Assault, Battery, Aegis, Triumph  
Cape(s) Encountered: Stormtiger, Rune, Othala, Alabaster, Kaiser, Krieg, Cricket  
Cape(s) Encountered: Lung, Oni Lee, Bakuda  
Other Witnesses: New Wave (not Panacea), Faultline's Crew, vendors and shoppers

Summary of Events: Rune and Stormtiger attacked the Asian street market located on the 400 block of Hyde St. Justification offered much later indicates that this was in retaliation for warrants prepared for the arrest of their civilian identities. At this time, it is not known how the Empire became aware of the warrants which had been signed only hours earlier.

Miss Militia, Velocity, and Dauntless responded to the attack. Velocity focused on evacuation, while Dauntless engaged Stormtiger and Miss Militia concentrated fire on Rune. Both Rune and Stormtiger ceased attacking civilians in order to focus the fight on Miss Militia and Dauntless

Empire backup arrived first. Thereafter, the ABB responded by sending Oni Lee and later Bakuda, as well as a number of unpowered supporters. It is unclear whether arriving in waves was an intentional strategy or coincidence.

The Protectorate dispatched backup for Dauntless and Miss Militia, and requested New Wave assistance. Faultline's Crew also arrived shortly after the start of the fighting, supporting the hero teams against both the Empire and the ABB. After the encounter they went their own way, refusing to give statements or accept medical examination.

Resolution: The Empire retreated when the bulk of New Wave arrived on scene. The heroes (and Faultline's Crew) retreated when Lung arrived on scene. There were no serious cape casualties or prisoners.

Further Reference: See C-0401-445361 for detailed timeline. See C-0402-445361 for detailed witness statements. See C-0433-445361 for detailed casualty report. See C-0400-445362, C-0400-445363, C-0400-445364, C-0400-445365, C-0400-445366, C-0400-445367, C-0400-445368 for summary sheets of related encounters. (NOTE: Two other cape encounters happened simultaneously with this encounter. See files 445362 and 445363 for details.)

* * *

Form C-0400  
Cape Encounter, Summary Sheet

Date: 26 April 2011  
Employee: Armsmaster  
Employee number: 300555  
File Number: 445362

Date & Time of Encounter: 26 April 2011. 15:21-15:54  
Location of Encounter: Intersection of Eighth Street and Reagan Avenue, two blocks from Briar Middle School

Responders: Triumph; Aegis; Assault; Battery; PRT Squad 2  
Cape(s) Encountered: Trainwreck  
Other Witnesses: Residents, business commuters, shoppers, and other civilians (approximately 300 total witnesses)

Summary of Events: Shortly after confirmation that the Empire Eighty-Eight was attacking civilians in Lung's territory, reports were received that indicated Menja and Fenja were advancing on Briar Middle School. Briar Middle School is nominally within Merchant territory, but is also a well-maintained campus where the children of many important businessmen attend. The tips were deemed credible, and Triumph and Aegis were dispatched to the scene, as the two Protectorate members closest to the area.

When Triumph and Aegis arrived on the scene, they were engaged by Trainwreck, dressed in armor not matching his file's description. This armor proved to be both faster and stronger than previous iterations. Battery and Assault were re-directed to the encounter to act as backup before any damage could be done to the middle school or students. Armsmaster used battle analysis software to model Trainwreck's fighting style to assist Triumph and Aegis. After 18 minutes of battle, Armsmaster directed Battery on suit's weaknesses and she exploited the electrical system thereafter.

Resolution: Trainwreck's suit was disabled by Battery. Assault and Battery were then sent to Equine Apartment complex. Triumph and Aegis remained on scene until PRT Squad 2 arrived to take Trainwreck into custody. Trainwreck arrived at PRT headquarters at 15:54. No casualties.

Further Reference: See C-0401-445362 for detailed timeline. See C-0402-445362 for detailed witness statements. See C-0400-445361, C-0400-445363, C-0400-445364, C-0400-445365, C-0400-445366, C-0400-445367, C-0400-445368 for summary sheets of related encounters. (NOTE: Two other cape encounters happened simultaneously with this encounter. See files 445361 and 445363 for details.)

* * *

Form C-0400  
Cape Encounter, Summary Sheet

Date: 26 April 2011  
Employee: Battery  
Employee number: 301090  
File Number: 445363

Date & Time of Encounter: 26 April 2011. 15:40-16:15  
Location of Encounter: On Equine Ave between Mammoth Drive and Hill St. Equine Apartments (Border of Empire and Merchant territory)

Responders: Battery; Assault; PRT Squad 1; Kid Win; Intrepid; Vista; Triumph; Aegis  
Cape(s) Encountered: Menja; Fenja; Night; Fog  
Cape(s) Encountered: Mush; Skidmark; Squealer  
Other witnesses: 62 residents and employees of Equine Apartment complex

Summary of Events: While engaged with Trainwreck near Briar Middle School, calls flooded PRT switchboard reporting an encounter between Menja, Fenja, and Mush. Once Trainwreck was dispatched, Assault and I were redirected to respond to the Equine Apartments, backing up PRT squad 1 who were first responders. Due to traffic and proximity, Assault and I were first on scene.

We arrived just after 15:45 pm, and found Skidmark and Mush both fighting Menja and Fenja. We judged the area to be relatively clear of civilians and most damage was simple property damage, so we reported there was no need for further backup. Assault and I engaged supporting Skidmark and Mush, who appeared to have the upper hand, in the hopes of ending the encounter quickly.

Shortly thereafter, Night and Fog arrived on scene and we called for backup. Intrepid, Kid Win, and Vista were dispatched to aid us, chosen for their mobility and their prior urban combat experience. Triumph and Aegis arrived on scene at approximately the same time as Squad 1.

Since Mush and Skidmark were now fighting both the Empire and the PRT, while we also had to defend ourselves against the Empire, this proved to be a relatively balanced fight. When the three Wards arrived minutes later, Menja and Fenja both concentrated their attentions on increasing property damage and began targeting select civilians. The PRT response was eventually drawn away to deal with them, while Mush and Skidmark were apparently capable of fighting and holding off Fog and Night.

Once we were sufficiently distant from the first fighting, including Fog and Night, Menja and Fenja retreated. Upon returning to the last place the other Empire capes were seen, we found Mush and Skidmark apparently dead, while Squealer and other Merchant gang members attempted to tend to them. There was no sign of Fog or Night.

Resolution: Reports of Lung engaging heroes deeper in ABB territory prompted total PRT retreat. We did not re-engage with Merchants.

Further Reference: See C-0401-445363 for detailed timeline. See C-0402-445363 for detailed witness statements. See C-0433-445363 for detailed casualty report. See C-0400-445361, C-0400-445362, C-0400-445364, C-0400-445365, C-0400-445366, C-0400-445367, C-0400-445368 for summary sheets of related encounters. (NOTE: Two other cape encounters happened simultaneously with this encounter. See files 445361 and 445362 for details.)

* * *

Form C-0403  
Cape Encounter, Witness Testimony

Date: 26 April 2011  
Employee: Battery  
Employee number: 301090  
File Number: 445364

Date & Time of Encounter: 26 April 2011. 19:00-19:44  
Location of Encounter: 6636 Beech St

Witness: Kelsey Wong  
Age, Sex: 8 yrs old, female  
Affiliation: civilian witness

Statement: Kelsey says that she was cooking dinner for her younger brothers when she heard the first explosion. She went to the window to see what was going on. This was "between 7 pm when she gets home from ballet" and "8 pm when her mom gets home from work."

Outside the window Kelsey saw Empire capes walking down the street slowly, from north to south. She says the "princess hero" and her "sister" (apparently Glory Girl and Laserdream, see audio for physical descriptions) flew out of the sky from the South and advanced toward the Empire. She also says they "shot at" the bad capes. (Kelsey may be confusing Laserdream's powers and associating them with both heroes.) Kelsey says the bad capes did not stop walking. They walked under her window, still fighting with the heroes. Kelsey says that the metal one (perhaps Kaiser?) "grabbed Mr. Kim and walked with him for a bit, and then Mr. Kim fell down."

Kelsey describes this scene happening with four more men from the neighborhood she knew. Then there was a loud noise, and the bad capes all stopped. The "hero girls" hovered over the Empire capes, while Kaiser walked forward alone. After a while, Kaiser returned and the bad capes turned and walked back north along Beech St. At this point, Kelsey returned to cooking dinner.

Interviewer Notes: At the time of the interview (23:22) neither Mr. or Mrs. Wong had returned home. Neighbor Robin Shelley was present for the interview and stood _in loco parentis_. Suggest follow up with CPS to verify whether Mr. or Mrs. Wong is still alive; if not, that the Wong children are put in the custody of a relative. At this time, Kelsey does not seem to be aware that she witnessed the brutal murder of five men.

Further Reference: See W-322A-445364-Wong for audio file of full interview. See C-0400-445364 for summary sheet and further reference.

* * *

Form C-0403  
Cape Encounter, Witness Testimony

Date: 26 April 2011  
Employee: NA  
Employee number: NA  
File Number: 445364

Date & Time of Encounter: 26 April 2011. 19:00-19:44  
Location of Encounter: Ash St, Beech St, Rosewood St

Witness: Laserdream  
Age, Sex: 17 yrs old, female  
Affiliation: New Wave, first responder to cape encounter

Statement: I was on patrol approximately four blocks west of encounter when screaming was heard from three different directions. Glory Girl, Shielder, and I split up to respond. Immediately, I saw a group of Empire 88 capes and a few foot soldiers marching south down Beech St. Glory Girl and Shielder indicated by radio that the situation was the same on Rosewood and Ash Streets. On Beech was Kaiser, Menja, and Fenja. No violence was immediately apparent. I contacted New Wave for backup, then called PRT hotline to report activity. I was put on hold.

As I assessed the situation, a group of eight men ran out to meet Kaiser in the street. Two were intercepted by Menja and killed. Four were targeted at range by Kaiser's power. I was able to protect three of these, and they fled. The fourth died. The remaining two men got past Kaiser's defenses and were struck from behind by Menja. The Empire force continued south, leaving the wounded civilians behind. I retreated from Kaiser's power by flying further up, and began harrying attacks and evasive maneuvers to slow the Empire. Shielder reported similar brutality from the capes on Rosewood, but those advancing down Ash were apparently less violent. Glory Girl did however report smoke and a probable fire east of Ash St.

Lady Photon indicated by radio that the rest of New Wave was approaching from the west. She urged Glory Girl to go investigate in case any civilians were trapped in the fire.

I retreated south ahead of the Empire, attempting to keep all three capes occupied. Despite this, Kaiser successfully snatched five more victims, killing them as he walked.

The rest of New Wave arrived on scene, and Glory Girl came to support me, having confirmed that the fire was threatening businesses only and no civilians were in immediate danger. Together, Glory Girl and I harried the Empire as they continued down Beech street, toward River Avenue.

New Wave recieved a possible report that Lung was engaged on the far west side of the Empire's march, but had no confirmation. At this time, I attempted to engage closer to ground to try to prevent further civilian deaths.

This is when the encounter crossed River Avenue, one block from Blossom Place. Kaiser was much further ahead, but Glory Girl and I were focused on protecting civilians and property from Menja and Fenja. Radio information from Brandish indicated that Blossom Place was rigged with tinker tech weaponry.

Two minutes later, Lady Photon ordered New Wave to retreat. (Bakuda was apparently threatening Kaiser, saying she would set off tinker tech bombs if the Empire did not retreat.)

Glory Girl and I both disengaged and retreated vertically. Before Menja, Fenja, and the Empire members with them arrived at Blossom Place, Kaiser returned and led them north up Beech St. We followed above the Empire until they had retreated back to a line of black SUVs, presumably their arrival transport, and drove away.

To be clear: at no time was I ever east of Beech St. Therefore, I could not have and did not witness any details of Viktor's death.

Interviewer Notes: No interviewer. Witness is a cape and PRT approved affiliate.

Further Reference: See W-322A-445364-Laserdream for audio file of full debriefing with Miss Militia. See C-0400-445364 for summary sheet and further reference.

* * *

Form C-0400  
Cape Encounter, Summary Sheet

Date: 26 April 2011  
Employee: Armsmaster  
Employee number: 300555  
File Number: 445365

Date & Time of Encounter: 26 April 2011. 21:00-21:45  
Location of Encounter: 4453 Brickton Ave (Empire safe house and suspected clinic)

Responders: Protectorate, all. Triumph and Aegis. PRT Squads 1, 3, 5, and 6  
Cape(s) Encountered: Empire 88, all remaining capes: Kaiser, Menja, Fenja, Stormtiger, Krieg, Alabaster, Fog, Night, Crusader, Othala, Rune, Cricket  
Other Witnesses: Empire unpowered members and sympathizers

Summary of Events: Following multiple attacks earlier in the day, it was considered probable that Kaiser would make another attack during the night. Authorization was given to strike at 4453 Brickton Ave, a suspected Empire safe house. In preparation, New Wave was alerted and expanded their normal patrol routes. The New Wave youth joined the Wards at the Ward base, in preparation for rapid deployment anywhere in Brockton Bay.

Attack commenced at 21:00. All Empire capes were already in residence, along with many unpowered supporters. A clinic, catering to Empire members and sympathizers, was discovered under the residence. There were three patients in residence, and all patients and staff surrendered to PRT officers immediately and were escorted outside while the fighting began in the back of the property between the Protectorate and Empire capes. No one in the clinic was harmed in any way.

Fighting remained intense for the full length of the encounter. At 21:28 Krieg was captured by PRT Squad 3 and removed from the premises by Velocity. At 21:37 Stormtiger was captured by Triumph, who was severely injured while trying to remove him from the encounter. Both Stormtiger and Triumph were evacuated by PRT Squad 6.

Resolution: Retreat was called by Miss Militia and Armsmaster at 21:45. By that time, most of the unpowered gang members had fled and the villains were well entrenched within the reinforced areas at the back of the house. At this time, Krieg and Stormtiger remain in Brockton Bay General. Krieg suffered blunt force trauma to his head, as well as various bruised organs. Stormtiger suffers from a broken hip, shattered ulna, and hearing loss. Triumph remains in the ICU, with numerous injuries to his chest and legs.

Further Reference: See C-0401-445365 for detailed timeline. See C-0402-445365 for detailed witness statements. See C-0433-445365 for detailed casualty report. See C-0400-445361, C-0400-445362, C-0400-445363, C-0400-445364, C-0400-445366, C-0400-445367, C-0400-445368 for summary sheets of related encounters.

* * *

Form C-0400  
Cape Encounter, Summary Sheet

Date: 27 April 2011  
Employee: Beetle  
Employee number: 302448  
File Number: 445367

Date & Time of Encounter: 27 April 2011. 11:00-11:25  
Location of Encounter: Winslow High School and eastern neighborhood

Responders: Beetle, Intrepid, Contract, Armsmaster, Miss Militia, Dauntless, Velocity, Triumph, Eidolon, Purity  
Cape(s) Encountered: Kaiser, Night, Fog, Othala, various unpowered gang members  
Other Witnesses: Faultline's Crew; unpowered gang members; residents living east of Winslow high school; Winslow students

Summary of Events: At approximately 11:00, shots were fired near Winslow high school. As it was between classes, students ran toward or away from the scene. Intrepid and Beetle both responded immediately, without waiting for a call from the PRT or school administrators.

A firefight developed on the football field and in the neighboring apartments on the east of campus. The initial encounter consisted of eight teenagers with shaved heads being harassed and then attacked by twenty-three teenagers and young adults, most in Merchants' gang colors.

Beetle deployed swarm tactics, attempting to use the bugs to separate the two groups. Simultaneously, more Empire backup arrived from Winslow, encircling Intrepid and Beetle and forcing them to defend themselves.

Contract arrived at 11:09 and attempted to separate the two gangs discreetly using telekinesis. Between 11:09 and 11:10, Kaiser, Night, Fog, and Othala approached the affected apartments and began attacking the shooters, as well as any non-white civilians who tried to flee or resist them. Beetle focused on the fight against the Empire capes, while Contract and Intrepid continued to defend against the Empire students. The Merchants scattered and tried to flee, but were pursued by Empire members or sympathizers.

Faultline's Crew arrived at 11:11 and attacked the Empire capes from their rear, further east of the school. Contract made the field call to consider the Crew allies until proven otherwise.

Resolution: The Empire retreated down Bethany St. when the Protectorate arrived at 11:18, where vehicles arrived to ferry the Empire away. Capes, initial gang members, and sympathizers were all evacuated. By 11:23, all violence had ceased. Faultline's Crew also withdrew, despite no provocation or hostility from the Protectorate.

Further Reference: See C-0401-445367 for detailed timeline. See C-0402-445367 for detailed witness statements. See C-0433-445367 for detailed casualty report. See C-0400-445361, C-0400-445362, C-0400-445363, C-0400-445364, C-0400-445365, C-0400-445366, C-0400-445368 for summary sheets of related encounters.

* * *

Form C-0499  
Cape Encounter, Attachment

Date: 27 April 2011  
Employee: Armsmaster  
Employee number: 300555  
File Number: 445368

Transcript: 27 April 2011. "Bomb Line" created by Bakuda. Annotations added.

Timestamp: 15:44

Armsmaster: Let the record reflect that Kaiser is standing on the edge of the north side of the Blossom Place, just east of Beech St. No sign of hostility. Immediate area is completely charred, with the exception of the previous melted zone from last night. That area appears exactly as it was left. Burned area continues for approximately 100 yards in each direction, but does not touch either sidewalk. Area appears elliptical. Other shaker affects apparent on either side. Engage external speakers.

Armsmaster: Kaiser.

Kaiser: Armsmaster. I suppose you're here about the explosions.

Armsmaster: We heard reports.

Kaiser: I have no wish to fight you today. I am only trying to locate and secure my people.

Armsmaster: This entire area has been declared a public safety hazard.

Kaiser: You and I are in agreement about something.

Armsmaster: If you do not wish to be arrested, leave.

Kaiser: I'm afraid I cannot do that. I am waiting for my people. We had some success against these infernal devices at the Market.

Armsmaster: Sixteen people were injured and three are dead because of what your people did at the Market.

Kaiser: Such is the price of breaking the rules, Armsmaster. Once we had confirmation that we were to be arrested, did you expect us to hold back?

Armsmaster: I think the results thus far speak for themselves.

Timestamp: 15:48. Armsmaster requested Beetle for her superior sense of hazardous terrain; she was dispatched by the PRT. Contract with Beetle, responded to summons also. Clockblocker and Vista dispatched to patrol three blocks south of Blossom Place, watching for signs of ABB response to the cape presence at the bomb line.

Kaiser: You won't be so pompous in a few hours.

Timestamp: 15:49. Phone ring tone. Kaiser's phone rang only once before he answered. He listened for eight seconds, then responded and hung up.

Kaiser: I'll be right there.

Timestamp: 15:49. Kaiser walked down the sidewalk, east and away from Armsmaster. Armsmaster paced him on the south side of the street. After 712 ft, the blasted area ended. Instead the street had been turned into a single, continuous glass scene. Two cars were completely transformed into glass on the south side of the street. Two glass figures, apparently Rune and Cricket, were trapped within this shaker effect. Four adult unpowered adults wearing E88 paraphernalia guarded Kaiser's side of the safe zone.

Armsmaster: I assume these were the people you were looking for.

Kaiser: Where are the others?

Male1: Coming, sir.

Facial recognition suggests that "Male1" is Henrick Smythe.

Timestamp: 15:52. Beetle and Contract arrive.

Armsmaster: Beetle, what can you tell about the area?

Beetle: Glass extends east to the edge of my range. There's three devices frozen in the glass zone. Contract and I came from the west, and most of the street is under one shaker effect or another. Approximately a fourth of the bombs have detonated. Some of the ones that appear intact are frozen by other device effects, like the ones that have been turned to glass. Others just don't appear to have gone off yet.

Kaiser: What was that?

Armsmaster: Don't answer.

Kaiser: My people have been crystallized. If you leave them there, you will as good as kill them.

Armsmaster: This area is a public safety hazard. Attempting to broach the perimeter puts us all in danger.

Timestamp: 15:55. A black unmarked SUV parked some ways down Ash St, behind Kaiser. Othala disembarked with six unpowered supporters. Armsmaster requested tinker Kid Win, and Gallant for long-range firepower.

Kaiser: Fortunately, some of us are impervious. My dear?

Armsmaster: *external speakers disengaged by hand controls* Let the record reflect that Othala is resting her hands on one of the men with her. He is now stepping out onto the glass edge of the street to try to reach Rune and Cricket. Engage external speakers.

Armsmaster: I strong advise against this course of action. The area is likely still unstable.

Timestamp: 15:57. Cracking is heard. Empire member continues to advance.

Kaiser: Stop. Come back carefully. Apparently you are correct, Armsmaster. You two, go around the glass and try to reach them from the west. They're pretty close to the edge of the two effects. The burned zone should be more stable

Armsmaster: Kaiser, do not send anyone into the street. We don't know what the full effects are of Bakuda's bombs might be.

Kaiser: Ignore him.

Armsmaster: Contract, stop them.

Kaiser: All of you, to the west.

Timestamp: 16:02. Contract was able to stop six of the Empire members from entering the street using her telekinesis and surrounding material. Three men made it past Contract's defenses and into the charred bomb zone.

Armsmaster: Stop. We can't risk destabilizing the area, especially now that they're in it.

Beetle: I don't see anything suspicious in the area.

Kaiser: Can you touch them?

Male1: I can touch Rune, sir.

Kaiser: Othala, let's see if regeneration can help her.

Timestamp: 16:13. Othala was carried carefully into the western shaker-affected zone. She was able to touch Rune, but no change was observed.

Armsmaster: Give up, Kaiser, before you lose more people.

Kaiser: Keep going, Othala. Don't give up on our girls.

Beetle: Armsmaster, there's something wrong.

Armsmaster: What?

Beetle: Something's moving in the burned area. I think there's another survivor there.

Kaiser: What did she say?

Beetle: Whoever it is, they're trying to slide out from under the debris of a truck.

Armsmaster: Where are they?

Beetle: Almost at the edge of my range. They've made it out! They're trying to run… no!

Timestamp: 16:25. Explosion.

Timestamp: 16:25. The survivor hit a tripwire, and set off a single explosion. The main payload seemed to be wind. The blast of air lasted 98 seconds. Contract was able to rescue three of the four Empire members in the affected zone with her telekinesis. This included Othala. She brought them to the south side of the street with the rest of the Protectorate. At this time, Kid Win and Gallant arrived at the edge of Beetle's range, approaching from the south.

Kaiser: What the hell?

Contract: Othala's alive. So's this one.

Beetle: This one too.

Armsmaster: The survivor?

Beetle: He's been crushed.

Kaiser: What the hell happened?

Armsmaster: You sent your people into a known hazardous zone which then destabilized.

Kaiser: You expect me to believe -

Contract: That Bakuda is a smart, smart bitch. She's got traps within traps all up and down this line, and now you've lost at least six people to them. Are you going to try to fight us, too?

Beetle: Kid Win and Gallant are passing the edge of my range now.

Timestamp: 16:33. At this, Kaiser chose to retreat. Given the difficulty in navigating the affected zones of the bomb line, the Protectorate let him go. Othala and her three accomplices were taken into custody. The windstorm and accompanying flying debris shattered much of the glass zone. The figures of both Rune and Cricket were broken into dozens of pieces.

It is my recommendation that the warning zone around the bomb line be increased to a mile in width.

* * *

Form C-2020  
Authorization for Truce Meeting

1- Participants. (Bold expected negotiators)  
Truce Participants: **Kaiser** , Night, Fog, Menja, Alabaster  
Hero Attendees: **Armsmaster** , **Miss Militia** , Eidolon, Purity, Contract  
Other: Faultline (and Crew)

2- Logistics  
Truce Time: Effective 27 April 18:00 until 28 April 24:00. Meeting to begin 28 April 18:00  
Truce Location: Boat Graveyard, Brockton Bay  
Truce Requested by: Kaiser

3- Evaluation  
Stated Reason for Truce: Kaiser wishes to negotiate a cessation of hostilities and the return of his son, Theo Anders.

Justification for Truce: The Empire has been severely weakened, but not totally defeated. They are still capable of extreme damage if cornered. Suggest an ultimatum that they leave Brockton Bay immediately. (Anticipated response: flight to Europe which can be tracked and intercepted in safer circumstances.) At the very least, this is an opportunity to end the violence of the past two days.

Protectorate Authorization: Miss Militia

PRT Director Authorization: Emily R Piggot

* * *

Form C-2020  
Authorization for Truce Meeting

1- Participants. (Bold expected negotiators)  
Truce Participants: **Faultline.** Gregor the Snail, Newter, Spitfire, Shamrock, Labyrinth  
Hero Attendees: **Contract** , Armsmaster, Miss Militia  
Other: None.

2- Logistics  
Truce Time: Effective 27 April 18:00 until 28 April 24:00. Meeting to begin following truce discussion with Kaiser.  
Truce Location: Boat Graveyard, Brockton Bay  
Truce Requested by: Armsmaster, on behalf of Contract

3- Evaluation  
Stated Reason for Truce: Faultline's Crew helped the Protectorate and PRT throughout April 26th and 27th, taking on both the Empire and the ABB at different times. They were targeted by Kaiser specifically, possibly as a result of that help. Their assistance kept the casualties from becoming any worse. The only request they made in return is to speak with Contract.

Justification for Truce: Contract has also requested to speak with Faultline. This is a low-risk venture, as Faultline has rarely fought against heroes directly, and does not appear to present a threat at this time. It would also be valuable to know who hired Faultline's Crew to help the heroes against the Empire and the ABB. This encounter has been cleared with Contract's therapist, and with Company.

Protectorate Authorization: Armsmaster

PRT Director Authorization: Emily R Piggot


	51. Mercenary

**Chapter Fifty-One: Mercenary**

 **April 27, 2011**

Faultline lashed out, her fingers trailing devastation. Beside her, the Ender grinned, seeming not to care that Kaiser's metallic tentacle had nearly skewered her.

"Good shot!" the blond teenager crowed, using a hand wave to telekinetically move a car to intercept Kaiser's next strike.

"This isn't the place for banter," Faultline shot back, focusing on the fight. She could see Newter out of the corner of her eye, but Gregor was further away, around a corner and out of sight. She'd just have to trust him to handle himself.

For a moment, she wondered if this job was really worth it. Spitfire was in the hospital, and Newter was still feeling guilty for something that was absolutely not his fault. He covered it with bravado, but the desperation of his fighting style gave him away.

She hadn't expected the fighting to be this bad. When he had hired them, Accord had warned her that it would be the Empire they were fighting, but he hadn't said anything about this level or persistence of violence. The last two days had been horrible, really horrible, for anyone near any of the fighting areas.

Faultline had a suspicion that Accord had known what was coming, even if he didn't choose to say anything. If Faultline and her crew hadn't intervened in the very first conflict in the ABB territory, it was entirely possible that the Protectorate would have been decimated, either by being forced to split their forces too thin, or else by being forced to engage with Lung. When Accord had told her that she was to put the Protectorate in her debt (and thereby in his debt), Faultline had been skeptical of how effective his plan would really be.

Now, however, the chances of success seemed far better. Without Faultline and her Crew, the past few days would have been much worse, and everyone knew it.

Accord's instructions were to refuse to engage with the Protectorate until the situation seemed to be calming down, and then to use the leverage of their assistance to request to speak with Contract. Faultline spared another glance for the much younger cape, who had just telekinetically pushed Kaiser back several yards, right into the path of some of his unpowered minions' gunfire.

Given the thinning of the Empire's ranks, perhaps it was time to issue her request. The city wasn't calm yet- not by any means- but who knew when it would be? Better to at least the lay the groundwork now.

* * *

 **April 28, 2011**

Faultline did not jump when the burner phone buzzed. She'd stopped being surprised by the success of Accord's plans after the first day of madness. Instead, she simply flipped it open to read the incoming text.

As expected, it was from the contact named "Contract," the number from a burner phone which Faultline had mailed to the PRT, care of the Ender. She told herself that she wasn't surprised the phone had been delivered, even given the state of the city. It was Accord's plan, after all.

The text itself was surprising.

 _Contract: Truce meeting with Kaiser at 6:00 PM. Boat Graveyard. Interested?_

Accord had predicted that Contract would be willing to meet with Faultline after the events of the weekend were settled. That had, after all, been his intent in hiring her crew. He had not warned her that she would be invited to witness the conflict's endgame. Faultline replied to the text; her number, the only number in the burner's contact list, was already labeled "Friend."

 _Friend: Who's offering?_

 _Contract: It's me, I promise. No good way to prove it over text, of course, but when we met yesterday, I told you "good shot." You told me that fighting wasn't the time for witty banter._

 _Contract: It wasn't banter, by the way. I was trying to say thank you. You left before I got the chance._

Faultline remembered the exchange, and the incongruity of it. Seeing Contract fight had not been at all like Faultline had expected. The girl was fast, pre-cognitively fast maybe, and had an eye for the battlefield, but she hadn't been a one-man army. Faultline had stepped up to save her from an attack on her less-dominant left side, and Contract had flashed her a cocky grin.

 _Friend: I will be there if you want me to be._

 _Contract: Just offering. If you'd prefer to meet up after, that could be arranged too._

And there was the offer Accord had anticipated, the reason she and her team had been hired to stay in Brockton Bay in the first place.

 _Friend: I accept, for both offers._

 _Contract: Not that there will be trouble, but just in case, I suggest you don't come alone. No one else will be._

Faultline read the message several times, before finally just shaking her head. She couldn't remember ever being invited to a secret meeting and being told to bring _more_ people.

"Good news?" Gregor asked from the doorway, where he was standing and watching her.

"Get the team ready. We're going to the truce talks at six."

"Even Elle?" Gregor double checked. Faultline sighed, and weighed her options..

It had been a good day for Elle so far, but there was no reason to push the poor girl if she wasn't necessary. Perhaps it would be better to split the team up. If Kaiser to didn't obey the truce - and even weak and wounded she half expected that he wouldn't - it would be better not to be in a single, expected location.

"You, Newter, and I will be at the truce. The rest will head for Boston immediately."

Gregor inclined his head in acknowledgement and left. Faultline re-read the messages, and then put the phone away. It was time to finish this job.

* * *

Faultline carefully timed their journey so that they arrived at the Boat Graveyard ten minutes before six. They parked the van behind one of the outermost wrecks, and then made their way on foot toward the sounds of the Protectorate.

They found the heroes only minutes later; Armsmaster and Miss Militia were expected, Eidolon and Purity less so but still not surprising. Faultline almost didn't spot Contract at first, since she was off to one side slightly away from the others.

On one hand, it was an astounding show of firepower. Eidolon was, well, Eidolon; Purity was frequently compared to Legend, and Contract was the Ender, with all that title implied. Even if her claims of needing Eidolon's help to handle the Endbringers were true, he was _right there_. Beside these three, Miss Militia and Armsmaster seemed to pale, when neither possessed a power or personality to sneeze at.

On the other hand, Faultline wasn't sure why the place wasn't swarming with PRT squads and the full Protectorate roster. Kaiser hadn't exactly been obeying the rules, these past few days. When one party broke cape code, it opened the door for retaliation. It was almost expected, really.

Faultline stepped forward first. She drew the heroes' full attention as soon as she emerged from the shadows, with the notable exception of Contract. Although it probably wasn't conscious, the other four heroes turned to face her and her team and closed ranks.

In deference to their nervousness, she stood her ground rather than advancing. She'd dealt with a number of powerful capes in her position as team leader, and she wasn't interested in antagonizing anyone here at the moment. She felt Gregor and Newter come up on either side of her, but they too waited patiently for the heroes to take them in.

There was a long, awkward moment of silence. Then Contract, who had been staring out at the Bay obliviously, turned to look back at the heroes. When she saw Faultline, she smiled widely and strode across the gravelly sand to greet her.

"I'm glad you came," she said, extending her hand. There were only a few feet between the heroes and Faultline's crew, and she crossed the no-man's land easily, seemingly unaware of the others' caution.

"Thank you for the invitation," Faultline answered, shaking the Ender's hand firmly but briefly.

She hadn't been entirely sure that the Protectorate knew she'd been invited, but the heroes were more wary than surprised, and Contract wasn't at all timid as she extended her hand to Gregor. With barely a hesitation, he shook it. Newter slipped his hands into his pockets to preempt a shake of his own just in case, but Contract didn't reach out to him.

Contract shrugged off the appreciation. "You did your part, and were targeted in turn. Truce doesn't do much good anyway unless the whole city will honor it."

Before Faultline could answer, Armsmaster's head turned to the north and Contract's followed like a magnet. Given that they were both wearing visors, Faultline assumed that someone had just sent them a message. The heroes reoriented themselves, Contract filling the gap between Faultline's Crew and the Protectorate so that the eight of them presented a united front to the approaching capes.

Kaiser brought all of his remaining firepower. Night and Fog flanked him on either side, with Alabaster further left, protecting Fog's slower power and the group's weaker edge. Menja, alone, brought up the rear. It was unsettling to see her without her sister.

If Faultline's Crew hadn't shown up, the Protectorate and Empire would have been evenly matched, five-on-five, in bodies if not in cape power. As it was, the imbalance of power could not be ignored.

That's not to say Kaiser didn't try, of course. He spoke just as he came to a stop, his group stopping with him, trying to use the change of momentum to subconsciously emphasize his voice. "Where is my son?"

Faultline was reminded of the interview Contract had given when Coil's list was leaked. She'd called Kaiser an excellent showman, and he was. Even here, with an audience that needed no persuasion to hate or love him, he was the consummate performer.

"He's been granted sanctuary," Miss Militia replied. Kaiser began to answer just as she tacked on, "by his own request."

The interruption was petty, perhaps, but Faultline didn't deny that it felt good to watch Kaiser have to begin again. "Pretty words to hide the fact that he's a hostage," Kaiser eventually countered. "How do you think the world will respond to you illegally separating a child from his father?"

Miss Militia's eyes narrowed. "Your son has been legally removed from a harmful home environment following trauma sustained there."

Kaiser had already opened his mouth when the last bit of her sentence registered. "Trauma?" he asked, a little weakly. His tone was that of a concerned father - a complete disconnect with his costume and teammates, who drove home the image of bloodthirsty, racist gang leader.

Miss Militia didn't answer Kaiser immediately, and his concern grew nearly palpable in return. It was Contract who finally explained. "He triggered."

Kaiser visibly flinched, even though he had to have been bracing himself. Alabaster and Menja both stood a little straighter, but Kaiser managed to recover quickly. Perhaps, if they couldn't see his face, they hadn't registered his reaction.

"You're lying."

"She's not," Armsmaster countered. "Your son has been granted sanctuary under the Child Protection Act of 1992. He will not be returning to your care. That is not open for discussion."

Kaiser visibly bristled. "You have no right-"

"You attacked high schoolers less than a day ago," Miss Militia said. "Do you really think the law will return him to you?" She didn't leave the question hanging. "You requested this truce, Kaiser. We granted it for one reason: to tell you it is time to leave Brockton Bay. If you remain, upon capture, you will be sent straight to the Birdcage. The Chief Director has already signed the order."

Faultline was glad for the mask that let her raise her eyebrows without notice. Birdcage orders were relatively rare - typically a cape was either dangerous enough to warrant a kill order, or else safe enough to stand trial.

"You can't -"

Miss Militia spoke right over Kaiser's protests. "Perhaps I didn't make myself clear. The truce you requested expires at midnight tonight. If you are still in my jurisdiction at that time, you will be in the Birdcage by morning. Now are you going to stand here, arguing, or are you going to make the most of your time?"

"You came after us in our civilian identities. I saw the warrants. I can be very persuasive - you do not want me to take this to the media. How will it look to every other villain out there? The PRT promises to play fair and ignore the list, and then within a week the Empire is hunted down, my son taken from me, and me sentenced to the Birdcage without a trial! You will have bloodshed within the hour."

Purity stepped forward. "If you try it, it will be you the media eviscerate. I have been unmasked - I will tell them who you are, and I will tell them that you beat me. I will tell them that I was blackmailed into the Empire by you, personally, and that I barely escaped your abuse, driven by fear for my life and my child's. Theo has promised to testify as well. Try anything, and your name will be mud."

"You lying whore!" Kaiser accused.

"It won't matter," Purity said with smug vindictiveness. "I will make them _hate_ you. Some might forgive you for being a Nazi bastard, but a wife beater and a rapist too? A child abuser? They'll call the Birdcage merciful - better than you deserve. They'll scream for your blood."

As threats went, it was not the most graphic that Faultline had ever heard. For sheer enom and level intimidation, however, it was pretty good. It was plausibly within Purity's power to deliver, it struck at Kaiser's strength- persuasion- and it undermined his current position.

Kaiser apparently thought so too, because he didn't answer her immediately. He glanced over at Faultline, who met his gaze squarely through the eyeholes of his mask, though the chance he could see even the shadows of her face through the welding mask were slim. She hated Kaiser on general principle and decentness, and didn't have a problem with Purity's threats. If it ended the violence and madness of the last few days, the woman was welcome to any lie or truth she wished.

"Midnight?" Kaiser finally asked, turning back to Miss Militia.

"Midnight," she intoned.

Kaiser hesitated another moment, perhaps trying to judge if the heroes were bluffing. Then he turned and waved a hand almost negligently and his team retreated cautiously, keeping the heroes in their sights.

The Protectorate waited, watching him. When the last of the Empire was around the corner, Eidolon glanced at Purity. She immediately rose into the air and shot off over the Bay. Towards New York, Faultline realised a little bit later. She was probably going to support Legend. If Kaiser was going to try to escape to Europe - and that's what she would in his shoes - New York was the easiest international harbor for him to reach. Brockton Bay and Boston both had too little international traffic, too easily monitored. New York was by far an easier escape.

Then Eidolon then exchanged a curt nod with Miss Militia and teleported away, leaving only local heroes to deal with Faultline and her crew. It was an interesting move. It put the two parties at numerical equality, though Faultline wouldn't have liked her odds if she was planning on causing trouble. Still, the casual arrogance of dismissing two heavy hitters made it clear that the Protectorate wasn't worried about her intentions, which was almost insulting. Faultline chose to see it as a sign of good faith, instead.

"I wanted to thank you for your help," Contract said, breaking the ice. She was still closer to Faultline than she was to Armsmaster or Miss Militia, but both adults had long-range firepower at their disposal if necessary.

"I'll pass that along to our employer," Faultline said steadily.

Contract smiled, and though it wasn't unfriendly, exactly, it was a little sharp. "I don't suppose you're here to tell me his name?"

 _His_ name, Faultline noted with interest. Did the Protectorate suspect Accord, or was Contract just fishing? Faultline quoted the line which seemed to fit the situation the best, out of the list Accord had given her. "Our employer requested we maintain his anonymity."

"What can you tell me?"

"He requested I pass on a message, in person." Accord had actually specified two messages: one to be given if there was an audience other than her own team, and a longer one for Contract alone, if it could be managed.

"You have my attention," Contract admitted.

"He will pay any price to speak with you regarding New York City."

Contract didn't respond immediately, and her posture didn't shift in any way as she carefully considered those words. It was finally Miss Militia who broke the thoughtful silence. "What interest does your employer have in the Endbringers?"

Faultline just shrugged, but Contract's head tipped to the side, and Faultline thought the younger woman might have caught just as much from her silence as she would have from a verbal deflection.

"It's not about the Endbrigners, is it? It's about the healing."

Faultline nodded, confirming Contract's guess. She hoped it was a guess - it was always possible that the Ender was a thinker of some sort in addition to her other powers.

"Is it just your employer who wishes to discuss New York?" Contract inquired. Faultline wasn't sure how to answer that. She wanted so badly to talk to Contract about the healing that had happened on January 31st. She just wasn't sure what could or should be said in front of others, even Contract's own teammates.

Finally, it was Gregor who answered. "What do you know of Gwerrus?" he rumbled. Contract didn't seem surprised by the question.

"I know she disappeared on February 1st," Contract said immediately, leaving no doubt that she understood Gregor's intent in asking. Miss Militia shifted uncomfortably, and Armsmaster's fingers twitched. Contract looked towards her leader, explaining, "Gwerrus was a Case 53 who was in New York City on the day Behemoth was destroyed. No one has seen her since."

"She was healed of her Case 53 traits," Armsmaster supplied.

"Presumably. The healing restored people to the best versions of themselves according to their own personal view. Assuming she disliked her case 53 appearance, it's very possible she could have been made closer to a baseline human. She made a few comments on PHO that seemed to indicate that had happened. Then she suddenly vanished. I didn't find out until it was too late to do anything about it, assuming that anything could have been done." Contract turned back to Gregor. "New York City was a unique occurrence. I've never done the like before or since."

"That's not to say you couldn't," Gregor replied evenly. He was taking her rejection quite well, considering that she was writing off his chance for a normal life.

"Alright, I can't repeat what I did in New York City."

"I am not a city," Gregor answered her. Faultline suspected the insistence was more from desperation than an attempt at persuasion. Without an idea of how Contract's powers worked, there was no reason to suspect that the size of the healing would matter.

The Ender pursed her lips but didn't respond directly. "Gwerrus most likely died. You get that, right?" It wasn't a protest, not exactly. Was it possible then? To heal a single person if not a whole city? Did scale matter?

"You believe there was something wrong with your healing?" Newter challenged.

"I don't think the healing and disappearance were unconnected," she hedged. "I strongly advise you to walk away from this line of inquiry." Faultline could have told her that wouldn't work. The Ender seemed to be hinting that there were greater forces at work, forces like those that had kidnapped the monstrous capes from their homes and remade them. But if whoever was making the monstrous capes had recaptured Gwerrus, Gregor would risk it. He might even welcome the chance to confront them.

Faultline caught a glimpse of Gregor out of the corner of her eye as he looked first to Newter, and then back to Contract. "I would pay any price," he said steadily, confirming Faultine's suspicions. He too had sensed that Contract's protests were changing, and that her resolve was weakening.

"Gwerrus was only asked for one," Contract shot back, almost menacing.

Gregor didn't change his manner in the slightest. "I would gladly die as myself."

At this, she laughed bitterly. "I know the feeling." Both supervising adults looked at her sharply for that, but she seemed oblivious or immune to their disapproval.

"Then you'll do it?" Gregor asked. To the heroes, he probably still sounded calm, but Faultline could detect the control in his tone, hinting at his deep desire.

"No."

Gregor visibly flinched at her flat refusal. "No?"

"No. I understand your willingness, but I won't be complicit in your death."

"It is my choice -"

"Actually, it's mine. And I won't add your name to the list of my regrets." Her face softened slightly, and her tone became marginally less unyielding. "I'm sorry."

Gregor spread his hands out in clear supplication. "Will nothing change your mind?"

She opened her mouth, then hesitated. "I will consider the question at some length."

Gregor hesitated too, and Faultline could see him trying to weigh whether she could be pushed any further. In the end, he inclined his head gravely, accepting this thin assurance. "Until then, if you ever need help..."

Contract seemed surprised. "I just refused you your greatest wish."

Gregor shrugged. "You won't change your mind if you're dead. I can wait. You are the first hope I have ever found."

" _We_ have found." Newter corrected.

Contract smiled. "I would not wish to give you false hope by calling in a debt I haven't yet paid for."

Armsmaster shifted his weight. It could just be that they'd been standing for some time now, but the motion felt deliberate. It drew Contract's attention, and then there was a pause. Faultline assumed that they were communicating electronically.

After a bit, she turned back to Gregor. "That being said, I appreciate your offer. If I need you, or something else changes, I will let you know."

For his part, Gregor nodded intently again, resigning himself to the disappointment. Faultline had warned him that it was a long shot - if Contract didn't regularly replicate the restoration and healing she'd displayed in NYC there was probably a good reason for it, and any restriction on natural healing would likely be worse when it came to Gregor and others like him.

Really, she was surprised that Contract hadn't declared it flatly impossible, true or not. It was obviously not something she had ever intended to repeat.

Contract looked back to Faultline, meeting her gaze. "Will you be remaining in Brockton Bay?"

"No. The situation here is a little more volatile than is good for business."

Contract inclined her head. "Do pass my compliments to your employer. I assume he'll let me know when travel arrangements have been made."

That earned her another pair of disapproving looks from the Protectorate co-leaders, and Armsmaster shifted again. Faultline decided to withdraw while she was ahead. "Of course."

"Be safe," Contract offered in farewell.

"And yourself," Faultline said as she turned away.

Behind her, she heard Gregor rumble, "Contract."

She replied, equally solemn, "Gregor."

If Newter offered a goodbye, it wasn't verbal. The three of them walked back to their van in silence, and maintained that silence until they were just a few minutes from where they would meet up with the rest of the crew.

"Do you think she'll relent?" Newter asked Gregor.

"Perhaps," Gregor said, after weighing the question for some time, though Faultline doubted he'd thought of much else since the meeting.

"What are you going to do?" Newter pressed, sounding surprisingly young. Newter usually coped with his lot in life by acting like an irreverent twenty-something, but now he sounded like a lost teenager.

"Wait. And be ready."

Newter mulled that over, and then nodded.

Moments later, they pulled up at the rendezvous, changed vehicles, and continued their journey towards Boston with the rest of the team. Accord had some local jobs for them, and then he'd promised to arrange their passage to Miami where they could look for new work. To the best of her knowledge, neither Gregor nor Newter told the others what they'd learned, which she approved of.

For the first time in a very long time, there was reason to hope. A reversal was possible. It _could_ be done. Contract seemed to understand how much it meant to Gregor, and had been sincerely pained to deny him. But it wasn't a solution, not yet. The forces working against them were more powerful than she'd guessed. Even Contract had believed that healing Gregor was somehow tantamount to him being taken or killed by an enemy.

Whether Gwerrus had disappeared at the hands of the people who had created her and Gregor, or someone else entirely, the fact remained that Contract was not confident in her ability to outmaneuver the enemy. Coming from the Ender, that was not comforting news.

Faultline would tell the rest of the Crew soon. After she'd had a chance to think over the conversation a few more times and try to catch any other hidden meanings. After she'd gone back through PHO, and ensured there was nothing else to learn about Gwerrus and her fate. When the time was right, then she would offer her team hope. But not just yet.

Still, it was one more piece of the puzzle. One more data point. One more clue. With any luck, the next piece would be waiting for them in Miami.

First, they needed to satisfy their agreement with Accord.

* * *

 **May 1, 2011**

The text was unexpected. Faultline had mostly forgotten about the burner phone after talking with Contract. She had little doubt that Contract's phone was being put to good use - surely Accord had planted it in her hands so that he could use it to arrange the details of the meet-up he wanted - but hers was basically useless.

So she was surprised when she received another message from Contract.

 _Contract: Tell Gregor that if he still wants the same things a year from now - and if he's still willing to risk sharing Gwerrus' fate, whatever that may be - that he'll have his wish._

Faultline stared at the texted, perplexed.

 _Friend: Thank you._

And although she was grateful, Faultline was not the sort to accept good fortune blindly. Particularly when it came to her people, Faultline wanted to know what they were getting themselves into.

 _Friend: You were very adamant, before. What changed?_

 _Contract: I've been where Gregor is now. I've wanted things so desperately that I would do anything to achieve a particular end. It's a dangerous place to be, particularly for too long. So now he has an endpoint in sight._

 _Friend: Why a year?_

 _Contract: It has to do with power mechanics. A year was the best I could do for him._

 _Friend: I'll tell him._

 _Contract: Thank you. Will you keep this number?_

 _Friend: Would you like me to?_

 _Contract: Yes, I would._

 _Friend: Then I will._

 _Contract: Thank you._

 _Friend: It's the least I can do. Thank you, for Gregor._

No reply came, and Faultline set the phone back down, staring at it. She had not expected to hear from Contract again, and especially had not expected her to relent from her refusal to heal Gregor. She had been so resolute, despite her empathy, that it made Faultline wonder why she'd changed her mind. Although Contract's explanation sounded sincere, it didn't seem like quite enough either.

Had Armsmaster persuaded Contract to hold them in her debt with Gregor's restoration as the ultimate leverage? Was it honestly a problem of figuring out power mechanics? Had someone else in the PRT advised her that Faultline and her crew would be good allies to have?

Whatever it was, Faultline would just have to wait and see. For now, she had good news to give to Gregor. She'd have to talk to Newter and the others and see what they wanted to do. While Newter did want answers to his situation, he lacked the devotion and drive that Gregor had for the truth.

She should also try to find out more of what Contract might know about Gwerrus. Did she know who had kidnapped her? Way did she seem sure that Gwerrus was now dead? Why was she so sure that the same people that had gone after Gwerrus would also attack Gregor?

Those were questions for another day, however. Maybe then she could discover more of what the hero wanted, and get a few more details on what, exactly, they could expect in a year. For now, she had a heist to plan, and future jobs to scout.


	52. The Blind Leading the Deaf

**Chapter Fifty-Two: The Blind Leading the Deaf**

 **April 30, 2011**

"This could be a critical opportunity," Contract insisted, her tone finally losing the edge of respect that it had maintained up to this point.

Director Piggot, of course, responded by escalating in kind. "Despite what you think, Contract, the world does not revolve around you. There are more than 500 competent people in this building," she spat.

Contract took a deep breath to steady herself and ground out, "I know that."

Director Piggot jumped in before she could continue. "There are another 500 competent people working in Boston."

"I know."

"Good. Remember it." Director Piggot turned away as though the conversation was over. Intrepid glanced at Armsmaster and found the hero was looking back at him. Neither wished to try to break into the discussion. Deputy Renick, standing to the side of Director Piggot's desk managed to sigh inaudibly without drawing either females' attention.

"All due respect ma'am," Contract managed to say with, to her credit, something at least approaching her prior tone of respect, "Circuit asked for my help."

"After you reached out to her," Director Piggot retorted.

Intrepid was _so_ glad that the Director didn't know that it had been his idea to reach out to the Boston Protectorate.

"Regardless of how it came about," Armsmaster finally rumbled, "Circuit has requested this negotiation and has signed off on all the applicable paperwork."

There, Intrepid thought, was the real rub. Contract was going to be meeting with Accord in Boston, under the Boston Protectorate's request, on Accord's terms. Formally, Director Piggot had little power to stop the meeting. He and Contract both had permission from their legal guardians, Armsmaster and Clockblocker had signed off on the orders, and the Boston PRT Director had signed them. Director Piggot had been given a courtesy email at the last minute.

The situation probably would have been less of an issue if the Empire had been caught in New York City before they escaped to Europe. The PRT had decided at the last minute to let them go, in hopes that they would inadvertently reveal more information about some of the Empire's european counterparts. The public, of course, didn't know this. Director Piggot was being heavily criticised by the media, and rumor had it that she had fielded several unpleasant calls from political leaders in America and abroad for letting the Empire slip away and become someone else's problem.

Intrepid wasn't sure if this over-reaction to meeting with Accord was due purely to her bad mood, or if there were other factors involved, but he did know that he was glad she was focusing on Contract, and not on him.

Director Piggot gave Armsmaster a look between a glance and a glare, but the tinker didn't seem to notice. She refocused on Contract instead. "I don't know what impression you've gotten from the Protectorate, but our job is to arrest villains, not to parley with them."

"I was under the impression that our job is to protect civilians and keep the peace."

Director Piggot scowled. She opened a file at the corner of her desk, as though she was going to read from it, but didn't actually reference it, staring down Contract instead. "Accord is guilty of human trafficking, international human trafficking, drug trade both foreign and domestic, enough white collar crimes to fund several third world dictatorships, robberies, heists, disappearances, and bribery and blackmail of public officials. He also sells his gifts to the highest bidders, who are not so restrained."

Contract nodded sagely and managed to say, completely seriously, "I believe it is those habits that Circuit would like me to discuss with him."

A vein in Director Piggot's temple ticked. Intrepid felt a little sorry for her. She had several valid concerns, hidden amongst her general hard-ass protests. Accord was a cold blooded crime lord with an indirect body count that was probably in the triple digits. He made himself just manageable enough to not be worth displacing, but a lesser evil was still evil. It wasn't hard to see why Piggot was less than eager to let two of her Wards walk into the lion's den, even if the lion in question usually kept his claws half-sheathed.

And it wasn't that Intrepid didn't think the bastard had a lot of pain coming his way, karmically. It was just that he didn't see how talking to him could make the situation any worse. Accord had paid Faultline's Crew to get Contract's attention in a very polite way, and consequently had reduced casualties during the brief war with the Empire. In return, he wanted a face-to-face meeting with Contract.

Director Piggot, in her attempt to get the meeting shut down, had managed to get authorization for three thinkers to independently verify Accord's intentions. Although certain types of thinkers could interfere with each other's powers, there was no evidence that Accord had that sort of ability. None of the thinkers consulted had indicated that he wished harm to Contract.

Director Piggot leaned forward, her tone more level but still obviously upset. "Do you honestly believe you will have any effect on a crime lord who has been operating longer than you've been alive?"

"Of course," Contract answered with conviction. "Do I think he'll put on a white hat and shut down his empire entirely? No. But I wouldn't be causing this much trouble for so many people if I didn't think that it would be worth it. Circuit obviously agrees, since she's taking on the logistical headache."

Contract didn't elaborate further, though Director Piggot spread her hands invitingly. After a slightly awkward moment, the older woman turned her attention to Armsmaster instead. "You know Accord's profile," she accused. "You know that he is an unstable psychopath who has killed his own people over nothing but perceived slights. And you intend to send your ward into his base of operations?"

It took Intrepid a moment to realize the singular "ward" was not a mistake: she meant Fi, Armsmaster's legal ward, and not Contract and Intrepid, Armsmaster's cape Wards. The lengths to which everyone went to avoid calling Contract Armsmaster's daughter were almost funny, really.

"Contract is more than capable of protecting herself and Intrepid."

...Which was a great vote of confidence in his own abilities. _Thanks Armsmaster, much appreciated_. For his part, Intrepid planned to avoid pissing Accord off in the first place.

"Will she even hear the danger coming?" Director Piggot asked pointedly.

Intrepid glanced at Contract, and found her glancing at him in turn. They hadn't explicitly discussed their idea with anyone yet, and now wasn't the appropriate time to do so. There were people in the room not cleared to know exactly how Contract's power operated. Contract prevaricated, "If this is your only objection, Director, then it is one to raise with Circuit and Boston PRT. I assure you, I do not trust Accord. I will not place my life nor Intrepid's in his hands."

Director Piggot relaxed at this, ever so slightly. Then she sighed warily, conceding, "It would appear I cannot stop you." She waved a hand tiredly. "You're dismissed, all of you."

Contract and Intrepid rose together, a moment before Armsmaster's heavy armor could follow. "Thank you, ma'am," Contract said. Director Piggot grunted and turned to her computer, typing. Intrepid led them out of the office. There really wasn't anything more to say.

* * *

 **May 3, 2011**

Contract and Intrepid were driven to Boston by a PRT employee, in a PRT vehicle. They spent the time practicing.

 _Why does that sound vaguely dirty?_

Intrepid carefully didn't let his mouth twitch. Contract's mental voice sounded very similar to her audible voice, and distinguishing between the two without looking at her was one of the things they were working on.

 _It does not,_ he thought in return. In the corner of his eye, he saw her twitch. Evidently, he tended to "shout" when he tried to direct his thoughts her way. Vaguely, he wondered if he should be disturbed that she was so good at this.

The "telepathy" had actually been his idea. She very much wanted to meet with Accord, and admitted to Intrepid privately that she'd already been mulling over how it might be achieved before Accord had reached out through Faultline. He was a powerful thinker, and as a villain he had managed to establish something approaching a truce with Circuit and the Protectorate. The dynamic fascinated her on a political level.

Even more interesting to her was his thinker ability. She was hopeful that his power would be able to work around the limitations of other thinkers, and that he might be able to help her find more efficient ways to use her power. Of course, she wasn't reckless enough to explain exactly how her power worked to a mastermind villain, not without first establishing if he could be trusted. The hope was that this meeting would be the start of that trust, in addition to possibly mitigating some of his criminal activity.

All that being said, she wasn't obtuse. Meeting with someone as touchy as Accord alone, deaf, and on his home turf was asking for trouble.

Intrepid had helped her brainstorm ideas for mitigating her lack of hearing, but they were extremely hampered by the exact wording of the deal which had altered Eidolon's powers. It wasn't _just_ that she was deaf. It was that she could never and would never hear _any_ audible sound in this world again. If the contract had simply been deafness, they might have been able to negotiate a second deal on top of the first, to add a short time of hearing. But "never" was a powerful word, and it restricted their options.

In the end, they'd come up with two that were most viable. One of the easiest, simplest ideas was to pay for "captions" on the world. Accord didn't want Contract to wear her tinkertech visor, which could have any number of recording or communication programs built into it. But there was no reason that she couldn't have a deal that would temporarily function the same way, without any physical support.

Ultimately, Contract was unwilling to depend on her reading speed. The deal also wouldn't give her Accord's tonality, it wouldn't help her judge the volume and tone of her own voice, and most importantly, it might be noticed by Accord.

 _Luckily, you're smarter than me._

Intrepid kept looking out to window. Evidently, Contract was capable of following the paths of his musing.

 _You're blushing,_ she informed him.

 _Well, this was my idea. I get to be proud._

 _Yes, you do. Now sing._

Dutifully, Intrepid focused on the song lyrics playing from the radio. As they were the only thing that he was thinking, and Contract was 'hearing' his thoughts, she was able to hear the song.

 _Unless Katy Perry has drastically re-written some of her lyrics, you're not actually focusing all that well. I'm pretty sure there were supposed to be a couple f-bombs in there._

 _Radio version,_ he reminded her.

 _Right._

 _Other than that, how's it going?_

 _Better. I get the impression of some of the music behind the lyrics, now. As long as you don't get lost in your musings, or in listening to me, this should work._

 _Good, because we're out of time to come up with more options._

He caught a glimpse in the corner of his eye of Contract turning to look at the Boston PRT building as they passed it, headed to parking. They had two hours until their scheduled appointment time with Accord - long enough to get a last-minute update to their briefing from Circuit, finalize their grooming, deal with any last-minute bureaucracy and meet Citrine at the appointed location.

 _Twice as long as we'll need, you mean._

Intrepid managed not to smile as he climbed out of the PRT vehicle. _Never underestimate last-minute bureaucracy._

* * *

Accord's office wasn't quite like Intrepid had pictured it, because Intrepid could never be as detail-oriented as the psychopath himself. The carpet was freshly vacuumed, still showing the dark-and-light lines that were left behind just after cleaning. The furniture was centered and symmetric, the window shades were all raised to exactly the same heights, and the door moved completely soundlessly. All the tiny factors that Intrepid would never have noticed except that with all of them given such perfect attention, they drew the eye. It was vaguely creepy.

 _Not helpful, Intrepid._

Contract walked into the office first, and Intrepid followed behind her, leaving Citrine to shut the door and follow behind him. It was the first time Intrepid had willingly let a villain be behind him outside of an Endbringer fight, and it made his shoulders itch.

Contract crossed the room easily, casually, and Intrepid did his best to imitate her. Accord was already on his feet when they'd entered, and he gestured with one hand to the two chairs sitting in front of his desk.

"Hello," he greeted, his tone completely unreadable.

"Hello, Accord," Contract replied, pausing as she reached the two seats. "My name is Contract." She gestured in his direction. "This is my partner, Intrepid."

Accord took his seat and Contract followed him at the same time. Intrepid stepped up to her shoulder, but didn't sit.

 _Why aren't you sitting?_ Contract asked.

 _Because Citrine isn't. She's here as my mirror, remember._ In the negotiations to set up this little meeting, Contract had refused to come if she had to come alone, and Accord had finally allowed Intrepid to join her only if he also had a trusted lieutenant with him. Obviously, Citrine was there to balance him, so he should take his cues from her.

"Welcome," Accord said. He seemed to look at Intrepid for a moment, but the Ward couldn't tell if it was approving or not. "Refreshments?"

Citrine was already at a sidebar, pouring bottled water into tumblers with ice.

"Yes, thank you," Contract answered Accord for them both. _Poison?_ she asked Intrepid.

 _Unlikely,_ he replied. Citrine was carrying over a tray with four tumblers. Intrepid took two, and handed one to Contract. Citrine set a tumbler just out of Accord's immediate reach, on a prepared wooden coaster that perfectly matched the desk and chairs, before she put away the tray and stepped up to Accord's shoulder, holding her own glass.

 _I think I'm supposed to stay standing,_ Intrepid thought.

 _Only if you don't mind,_ Contract insisted.

Intrepid was warmed by her consideration, but there were more important things right now than a little power play. Intrepid remained in his on-guard position behind her shoulder.

"You're welcome," Accord said, while Contract sipped a little from her water. "I admit, I am impressed." His eyes flicked toward Intrepid, and the young hero forced himself not to bristle at the "good dog" undertone the words carried.

Contract smiled in a way that might be mistaken as soft, for those who didn't know her. "I requested Intrepid specifically because he is a good friend, in every way." She seemed determined to defend him, even when it wasn't necessary.

Accord nodded, seeming satisfied. "I rarely find those willing to know their place."

Again, Intrepid let the insult slide past. How long were they going to talk about his decision of where to stand?

Contract, it seemed, was not quite as willing to play Accord's game. Her brow furrowed as she answered in a deceptively mild tone, "Citrine is not here as decoration. At every moment she is evaluating the situation, making decisions, making judgement calls. You trust her to know her role, to know your abilities, to know how and when she might and must act. So, too, do I trust Intrepid."

"You do, but I don't," Accord gently rebuked.

"Then trust my judgement, as I am trusting yours."

Accord didn't look pleased at that. _Careful, Contract,_ Intrepid warned her. Before he could convince her to apologize, Accord took a sip of water, which Contract mirrored. "To business then," he suggested.

"Of course," she agreed, but offered nothing more.

"Tell me about New York City," he requested.

Contract took another sip, considering her words. Finally, she spoke. "I was in the area for concerns of my own, attempting to track an item of personal relevance. Earlier in the day I had discovered that my quarry was likely already in Europe, having been sold at auction three weeks before.

"I returned to my hotel to pack my things so I could leave the city, and then went to an underground casino to make a bit of quick money. That's where I was when the Endbringer alarms sounded. I slipped away from the crowd, masked up, and proceeded to the gathering location as a cape. I was deployed by Dragon defensively, not in the line of fire but not far from it, either."

She stopped to take another small sip. Intrepid forced himself not to fidget. Behind Accord, Citrine hadn't moved since she arrived in her position. Accord himself merely listened, fingers still steepled. He was impossible to read, but he didn't seem displeased.

Contract continued, "I was surprised when Behemoth actually appeared. I had expected to sense him coming, and I didn't. Nonetheless, I attempted to exercise my power in three ways, each with progressively more dangerous side effects. All of them failed, with no effect against him. For the final possible solution, I needed help. I used Dragon's armband to request a flier, someone who could take me up above Behemoth.

"Intrepid was behind me only moments later. As I understand it, he was already in the building, and overheard my request to Dragon directly. He was not sent to my aid. Regardless, he lifted me. We flew up over the city, and I prepared my last attack. When we were in position, I completed it and passed out. When I awoke, I was in the hospital, already healed by Panacea."

Accord absorbed all of that very calmly, if his mask was true to the face beneath it. It was an interesting mix of facts and details that Contract had chosen. She was obviously trying to pique his interest in a particular fashion.

"You've been healed by Panacea, and yet you remain deaf," Accord observed.

Contract sidestepped the true explanation. "The deafness is centered in my ability to process sound mentally. Unlike many who are deaf, I do not hear any ambient noise nor other sounds, no matter how loud. My brain simply doesn't register the sensual input. There's nothing for Panacea to heal."

 _Careful lying to a thinker,_ Intrepid cautioned, even as Accord said, "I've never heard of such an injury."

Contract cocked her head, just slightly. Just as Intrepid was trying to recall exactly what Accord had said and how, so he could repeat it in case she'd gotten a jumbled message she answered, "Injury is… misleading." She took a sip of water.

Accord carefully curled his left-hand fingers into a fist. "I don't appreciate games."

 _Cut it out, Contract. Don't piss him off!_

Contract lowered the tumbler of water and spoke more directly, "I am not attempting to play a game, merely choosing my words carefully." To Intrepid she thought, _I'm just making him work for it._

 _Well, not too hard. He's a sociopath._

Contract continued her conversation with Accord, but Intrepid caught a hint of agreement, as though she'd conceded the argument. "My apologies. I have given considerable thought to how I would explain this to you. Now that I am here, however, it is… difficult. This will be the first time I have explained my powers when deaf. Without the ability to be completely sure of your reaction, I must be even more careful of my words."

Accord breathed out evenly and deeply, and Intrepid wondered if he was suppressing violence. He put a hand on Contract's shoulder in a gesture of visible support and caution. _Why are you still pushing him?_

Contract glanced up, as though her gaze had been drawn by the physical contact. _Because I want him to value the information._

Contract looked back to Accord. "Intrepid knows the details of my power. Would you permit him the honor?"

Intrepid was pretty sure Accord was grinding his teeth now. "Speak, and if clarification is required then he may answer in your place."

Contract inclined her head gravely. "My power is about balance," she said at last. "I give up something I want, and I gain something I want. It's always a contract with at least two clauses, and it is always, always in balance."

Intrepid could almost see Accord considering that carefully. "In balance, according to the scale of your own emotions, then."

Contract's tone remained even, but he could feel a hint of defensiveness about her, without being sure how he knew it was there. Through their temporary bond, perhaps? "I didn't choose my power, or its exact mechanics."

"No," Accord sighed almost regretfully. _Mordor,_ Contract flashed to Intrepid. _He bought his powers. I thought so._ Accord spoke again, so Intrepid chose to listen rather than answer her. "Would you demonstrate it?"

"I could. If you wish."

"Yes."

Even braced for what was coming, it shocked him.

It happened between one blink and the next. The vacuum lines, which had been visible in the carpet, disappeared as all the fibers were suddenly bent in the same direction. The dust motes by the window were gone, the thinnest film of dust that had accumulated since the cleaning that morning vanished from the surface of the desk. His clothes, everyone's clothes, were pressed and straightened. The water tumblers all magically refilled to precisely the top of the etching on the glasses. The glass in the window became a little more opaque, letting in just a touch less sunlight to balance the internal lighting in the ceiling.

And Intrepid had thought the room was perfect before.

For his part, Intrepid forced himself not to move or react as much as possible, though he knew he was standing more stiffly. His ribs _hurt_ , damn it. He and Contract had discussed the very high probability that Accord would want a demonstration of power, and Intrepid had explicitly told Contract to share every cost with him. He did not want her to carry a handicap he didn't know about. It was even a part of the deal that let them hear each other - for as long as they were connected, they would share every deal too.

In this case, the cost felt like he'd been kicked in the chest with Gallant's power armor.

Aloud, Contract explained to both Accord and Intrepid, "No physical harm, just pain, and that will pass. But nothing in this world is free. As the legends say - all magic comes with a cost."

"Thank you," Accord said, nodding to them both.

 _Need to sit?_ Contract asked Intrepid.

 _I think it's actually easier to keep standing,_ he admitted.

"You're welcome," Contract answered Accord serenely and seamlessly. "You didn't want to see me just for this, however."

"No. Of course not. I wanted to discuss Boston with you." Contract nodded, but didn't volunteer anything to move the conversation forward. It was left to Accord to continue. "I imagine you have your reasons for not repeating the remarkable feat you accomplished in New York City."

Contract sighed heavily. "The few cost ideas I have come up with that would be sufficient are not the sort to be taken lightly."

Accord pursed his lips. "So I suspected."

"Was this all?"

He shook his head. "No. There is something I wanted to show you." Citrine took the cue. She walked over to the sideboard and retrieved a thick binder which she brought back to Contract.

Contract took it in both hands, and examined it. It was at least four inches thick, professionally compiled in a faux-leather cover. She opened it, read the title page, the abstract, and then scanned the table of contents and figures. As she did, Intrepid was able to pick up little snippets.

… _Expansion of production capacity… control of growth industry… unity required in order to ensure… resource allocation in case of… advancement for the purpose…Correlation of gross median income with… quality of life and health of… projected outlook..._

She stopped when she reached the end of the title pages. Intrepid couldn't read over her shoulder, but when she'd flipped backwards in the binder she read what she'd found mentally to them both.

 _Applicability of Wide-Scale Anti-Entropy._

 _Powers, taken as a whole, suggest that entropy is not always increasing… in particular, the events of New York City imply that entropy can be reversed on a macroscopic… may even be possible to advance into utopian civilization given proper mingling and merging of gifts which… Such a thing, if accomplished, would not only provide stability, safety, order, and health to the present population of the world but also enable the creation of self-sustaining cycles outside of entropy if..._

Intrepid could see why this had caught her interest. _Is he trying to fix the whole world, like you did New York?_

 _This is much bigger than that. He thinks he can fix the physical world, and also culture, society, personality conflicts, everything. He thinks he can build heaven, here on earth._

 _Why don't you sound excited?_ Intrepid asked, while she flipped a page as though she was still reading.

 _He's vastly misunderstood my power. And he thinks powers in general are safe to play with._

 _Isn't it worth the risk?_

There was a grudging silence, before she finally conceded, _Maybe._

"An admirable beginning," Contract finally said aloud, closing the binder reverently and placing it on her lap. "I had heard that you were dangerous, but this is… breathtaking."

Accord again steepled his fingers in front of himself, watching her carefully. He seemed to have forgiven or forgotten her earlier faux pas. "Will you do it?"

"No. Not like this. Your conclusions are good, given the data you had access to, but not perfect. You drastically overestimated the conversation efficiency." It seemed that Contract had gotten a lot more out of that graph on the third page than Intrepid had.

"Did I?" Accord asked lightly.

"My power is not designed to use matter or energy as a cost. I have a good enough grasp of physics that it can be done, but it is extremely inefficient. Given Behemoth's size and apparent durability, I expected to see a restoration radius of approximately 50 ft. Furthermore, the efficiency conversation decays exponentially as the affected mass increases. For it to have affected 266 cubic miles in a city like New York?" She shook her head.

Accord was much quicker with the mental math than Intrepid was. "Behemoth had the mass of a large moon."

"Or a small planet," Contract said in agreement. Intrepid saw something twitch in Accord's face and warned Contract, _Don't start sentences with conjunctions._ Contract managed to continue flawlessly, "I haven't really wanted to know the answer, so I haven't done the detailed math. There is no practical way to repeat what I did in New York with either mass or energy as the price."

Accord didn't seem deterred by her vagueness. "What do you think of the rest of the plan?"

"Workable. Probably. Again, it needs to be redressed in light of my actual power mechanics. Namely, I imagine the section about power cooperation will need to be reexamined entirely. Despite what I told the media, Eidolon was only incidental to the destruction of the second two Endbringers, and Behemoth being a dynokinetic was poetic justice but not necessary."

Accord was frowning heavily, annoyed by her analysis. _I don't think he likes you throwing out chunks of data,_ Intrepid warned her.

 _Should I lie?_ she shot back.

 _Give him something,_ Intrepid insisted.

"You're one of the best thinkers in the world. Maybe even _the_ best. I have no doubt that you can make this plan workable, given better data. With the limited information you had, I'm impressed you got this far."

 _You're still speaking in incomplete sentences and bad grammar._

Accord was placated though, if only slightly. He took another sip of water, and some tension seemed to leave him as he swallowed. Speaking carefully he asked, "If the plan is adjusted, _will_ you do it?"

She stroked the black binder cover, thinking. _Ready for the real negotiation?_

 _Bring it on,_ Intrepid thought, happy to be distracted from his pain. With that thought, his ribs flared slightly and Intrepid let out his breath carefully. Ow. Just how badly had Contract wanted to clean Accord's office? The pain was fading, as she'd predicted, but not as fast as he'd expected.

"I will consider it," Contract told Accord. "A plan like this could do a lot of good. But I know better than most that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. I don't intend to stumble down it blindly. Neither of us have the authority to dictate global politics or reorder millions of lives like your plan requires."

Accord's hands were curling into fists, but he managed to speak calmly. "What do you propose?"

"Why does this have to be executed from the shadows? Why not use me as a front for the plan? I have a meeting pending with the President of the United States. I could hand-deliver a briefing to him in person. I could be your face to him, and to the rest of the world."

Accord drank again, weighing her. _What's the plan?_ Intrepid asked, watching Accord for any sign of imminent violence. At the moment, he just seemed thoughtful.

 _No stick, just carrot. I bring his plan into the light, he stops all criminal activity. After all, I can't be associating with anyone or anything that could harm the plan._

 _You think that will work?_

 _Depends on how badly he wants this._

Accord leaned forward, and Contract mirrored his posture. "And I suppose in gratitude I am to immediately cease all criminal activity?"

Contract tipped her head. "I'm no idealist, Accord. I know there would be complications to pulling the plug on everything immediately. But the human trafficking? Yes, that has to stop. And a good portion of the drug trade too, as soon as it might be feasible."

"Drugs are profitable, and the market will simply turn elsewhere," Accord countered.

Contract waved the hand not holding her water glass. "We can quibble over details later. What matters is if we even have a basis for discussion."

Accord nodded. "I understand. Very well, we can discuss practicalities."

Contract held up a finger. "I have another question for you about the plan. I'm sure you've thought of it, but I didn't see it addressed in the table of contents. Would you mind answering, rather than having me read this whole document right now?"

Accord gritted his teeth, but forced a smile and asked, "What is it?"

"Scion."

The name sat between them for a moment, the atmosphere suddenly and unexpectedly heavy. Intrepid carefully refrained from shifting uncomfortably, and forced himself not to send Contract any stray thoughts either. She was entirely focused on Accord, and he on her.

Accord glanced away first, swirling the ice cubes in his tumbler with a twitch of his wrist, leaning back in his chair in a small retreat. "The golden man is irrelevant to the plan."

Contract actually snorted in response, and from Accord's harsh glare he didn't appreciate it. "Don't patronize me, Accord. Scion is the single most volatile and influential individual in the world. Any plan for the future of the world, for shaping the world, ought to account for him."

Accord set his glass down with a hint of finality. "The plan will work as written."

"As it's currently written, you need my help."

 _Is pushing him really wise?_ Intrepid asked during the silence that followed, as the two capes weighed each other.

 _He's not going to kill me._

 _Saying it doesn't make it so,_ he answered just as deadpan.

In answer, Contract broke eye contact with Accord, looking down at the plan in her lap instead. She tapped a finger on the cover for emphasis. "This is going to save the world. _We_ are going to save the world," she said, as though it was already a done deal. "I'd hate to see it fall apart because we didn't account for such an obvious force of nature."

Accord softened, her surrender enough to placate whatever whim Contract had previously upset. "Scion is not predictable, but he is a hero. He will only accelerate the timeline."

Contract hummed softly. _Should I take a risk, or back down?_

Intrepid considered Accord, and Citrine behind him. Both seemed calm, now. _Take a medium risk, but only if you do it respectfully. He's not got a lot of rope left._

"I would prefer to have some understanding of Scion's nature. What does he value? Why is he capricious and unpredictable? But if this is truly impossible…" she looked up to meet Accord's gaze through his mask. "Then let's talk terms."


	53. The Sum of the Parts

**Chapter Fifty-Three: Miscalculation**

 **May 3, 2011**

Jack tapped on finger on the steering wheel, thinking. Thinking was calming, comfortable. There was nothing for him to read that he hadn't read already, nothing to say to his companions that he hadn't already said. Their quarry could appear at any moment, which meant that if there _had_ been anything left to do, then Jack wasn't doing his job very well.

But Jack was good at what he did, and so everything was done, and he had a moment to think.

It would surprise many to know that he wasn't thinking about what he was about to do: not about the two people he was going to meet, or the two people he was going to kill, or the two people who would be with him when he did so. He wasn't thinking about the rest of the plan, or the backup plans, or the escape plans.

He was thinking about architecture.

The building he was facing was a looming, broody sort of building. It had been a high school, once, and then converted into a K-12 campus when the population center migrated. Sometime later, but still quite some time ago, it had been converted into government use. May third was a Tuesday, but there was no sign of anyone in the building. Then again, Jack imagined that this particular building would look the same occupied or unoccupied. Something about it was simply static - solid but dead.

The heavy windowsills split the building horizontally with thick slashes, and the less-than-clean windows gave it an air of foggy, drug-filled eyes looking out over the little street. It was only a couple stories - three or four depending on how you counted the stupid little sheds on the rooftop - but it seemed hulking by comparison to the area around it.

Had the architect meant for it to be so imposing? Did he predict that the town would become a city, and wish his building to fit into some future cityscape? Was there hidden resentment for his own educational past coming into play? Did the man suppose that intimidation would somehow inspire respect?

Jack discarded the questions and turned his gaze from the building, watching as the vehicle they were waiting for came into view at the far edge of the tiny little town. He judged the speed of his target, then reflexively glanced down the road in the other direction. It was still deserted.

The vehicle approached, maintaining the posted speed limit. It was all too easy for Jack to ease his foot off the brake, feel the truck begin to drift forward, then slam his foot onto the gas, rocketing out of the alleyway.

It was exhilarating, the jump of two tons of metal racing forward and almost immediately jerking, shuddering, crashing to a stop as they t-boned the target. Wrenching metal and twisting glass shrieked and screamed and then was silent. The whole world held its breath.

Jack forced the door open, hopping out lightly as the striped, naked woman in the passenger seat slid out after him. Not even so much as a cut - god, he loved invincibility. He stood patiently at the side of the wreck, waiting for the opportune moment to act.

As he'd planned, he'd hit the other vehicle further forward than a true T-bone. If the driver wasn't dead already, he or she soon would be. The other car had been driven off the road and into the large tree at the edge of the property, killing or trapping whoever had been in the front passenger seat.

The back of the car, by contrast, was in much better shape. Jack smiled as he heard a car door open and watched the back-seat passengers slide slowly out of the car on the far side, circling widely around the wreck to come and see who had hit them.

He smiled wider when he saw the recognition dawn on their faces. Both were wearing tinker tech visors, but their faces were still easy to read: shock, fear, wariness trying to mask pants-wetting terror, and bravery as they accepted there was nothing else for them to do but face him.

"Contract!" he greeted jovially. "So glad to see you still walking." He was, too. He didn't want her seriously hurt or dead yet. That would be too easy. She held herself stiffly, just in front of Intrepid, who was going from brave to murderous right before their eyes.

That was okay; Contract wasn't a killer. She'd keep her teammate in check.

"Jack Slash," she said, though she wasn't looking at him when she said it. Instead she was sizing up the man to his left, the newest member of the Slaughterhouse Nine. It was rare that Jack accepted those who had nominated themselves without any further testing, but hey - when the stars align, the stars align. "I take it help isn't coming," she added wryly. Whether she knew Bloodlust's powers for certain or was just guessing, the comment was likely for Intrepid's benefit.

Sure enough, the young hero went from glaring at Jack to staring at Contract at the speed of whiplash. Beside Jack, the self-named Bloodlust chuckled ominously. "No, it isn't. As far as the precogs know, there's nothing wrong."

Jack had idly wondered how Contract would react to Bloodlust. It hadn't been difficult for Jack to guess that the other cape had a bone to pick specifically with Contract. He'd practically begged Jack Slash to go after the Ender.

Jack had only refrained from killing him for two reasons - he already wanted to hunt down Contract, and he'd wanted to see how she'd deal with him. At the moment, she wasn't showing any sign of recognizing him specifically, but given the certainty with which she'd declared his precog immunity it seemed likely that she was bluffing.

Contract turned her attention more squarely onto Jack himself. "Why shouldn't I just kill you where you stand?" she asked almost mildly.

Jack let his eyebrows raise in a bit of honest surprise. "You actually believe you could get past the Siberian?" She did too, he could see it in the set of her jaw. Well, this just got more interesting. Contract didn't volunteer an answer, so Jack told her of his most recent safeguard.

"You wouldn't just be killing me, little hero. I've tied my life to a great many others- I've lost count really, but Bonesaw assures me it's enough to make a statement- and you'd be killing all of them along with me. Robert Heely, Christina Deets, and Richard Nolan, to name just a few." He could see the recognition of their names in her face, and he relished it. There could be no doubt for her that he'd targeted supporters of her ridiculous capeless movement purely to get at her. Even if she hadn't already been so set against killing, their lives and her culpability would have guaranteed his survival here. "The only thing keeping them alive is my life. I die, so do they."

Contract nodded simply, suppressing the guilt that was already taking root deep in her psyche. Intrepid balked under his controlled mask of rage and bravery. Jack suppressed the urge to laugh. Oh yes, meeting with Contract had been worth the effort to make it happen. He hadn't had such fun since he'd decided to take in Bonesaw. Even if Contract never joined them - and Jack thought he should be able to swing even that, if the game went well- breaking her would still be delicious. Going after the absurdly hopeful civilians who worshipped her was just the beginning.

"Then they're already dead," Intrepid said. Jack could almost hear the strain as the young hero forced the words out, tried to force himself to believe it. Jack wondered if this was the right moment to announce the real kicker, but decided to hold back. He couldn't rush himself.

Contract had already moved on past the issue of his life insurance anyways. "How did you find him?" she asked, jerking her chin at Bloodlust. Beside Jack, the parahuman snarled at being discounted. Contract didn't so much as twitch, but Jack was sure the slight was purposeful. Nothing made Bloodlust madder faster than dismissing him.

"He found me," Jack admitted, curious to see how this would play out. He'd ordered Bloodlust not to attack her, not in this first encounter. He'd dangled as bait the assurance that she would suffer far more alive than she would dead. He doubted that would restrain the psychopath for long.

Jack couldn't wait to see what sort of mincemeat the Ender would make of a parahuman that - as far as Jack could tell - hadn't existed three months ago. Every press conference, every comment on PHO, every cape encounter she'd participated in screamed her refusal to kill. But death was not the worst thing that one person could do to another. Jack was willing to bet that Contract knew how to deliver a world of non-lethal pain. It would give him a good baseline of where she was starting from.

Contract turned her head to regard Bloodlust, leaning almost casually against the wreck of the PRT car that had been driving her and Intrepid back to Brockton Bay. She regarded him for barely a moment and then something - something shifted in her posture.

Jack's internal mirth died away as the one thing he hadn't expected to see surfaced. Despite everything he'd learned about Contract, despite how he'd researched and studied her, despite everything he knew, it obviously wasn't enough. In that moment, outside of everything he'd predicted about her, he saw Contract's killing intent rise.

"Where's your brother?" she asked Bloodlust, almost lazily.

"Why don't you ask yours?" Bloodlust snarled back. He took a single step forward threateningly, but didn't actually charge across the tiny no-mans land that separated the two groups.

Contract grinned. As far as Jack could tell, it was born from honest amusement. "Good for Brooks," she crowed with quiet but evident satisfaction.

Bloodlust lunged forward, faster than humanly possible, but Contract was ready for him. She seized his outstretched claws as soon as they came into her range, using them as leverage. She swung him around her body, letting his momentum work against him. She twisted as she did so, and Bloodlust ended up pinned against the hood of the car - no, not pinned. He was impaled on a sharp edge created by the crash. Then she jerked him off the edge, toward herself, his feet still without good grip on the ground after his spin.

She hauled him backwards, then threw herself forward and carried him with her. His body weight and hers drove his neck down on the edge of the wreck. A moment later, Bloodlust's headless body dropped to the ground, while the head remained stuck to the top of the wreck.

Intrepid was looking shockingly unsurprised as Contract turned back to face Jack and the Siberian. Jack wished the boy would look shaken instead. Hell, Jack was feeling a little unsteady himself.

 _This_ was the girl he'd profiled as incapable of killing? The Christian with an absolute respect for the sanctity of human life? The one who had just beheaded a parahuman with a truck?

Bloodlust had been faster and stronger than baseline human, in addition to however he blocked precognition. Contract had known this, had used his speed against him, and had provoked him into attacking by mocking his dead brother, if Jack had understood their little tete-a-tete correctly. Double shit.

Contract stepped over the dead body as though it simply no longer mattered to her. She was still three arm-lengths away from him, but it didn't seem like nearly enough space, now that he knew how badly he'd misjudged her.

"I would guess you've got about a minute before someone realizes we're not at the next check-in. And about ten seconds later, Eidolon is going to show up. So what's your move, Jack?"

Normally, seventy seconds was an eternity for him. He could drive people to suicide or madness with seventy seconds. He'd once peeled a man out of his skin in fifty-five, using the very knife currently resting in his belt.

But he didn't want to kill Contract just yet, not like this, and he was no longer certain of what made her tick. Seventy seconds had just become a hell of a lot shorter.

He had aces he could play, of course. But which one, which one?

Jack let the silence stretch just a hint, emphasizing that he didn't feel a time pressure even if he did.

"My move? My move is already underway. Just not here."

* * *

 **Chapter Fifty-Three: Integration**

 **May 3, 2011**

Intrepid was glad to be back in the car, driving back to Brockton Bay. Contract had her visor back on, so he didn't have to listen for her anymore even if the telepathy contract wouldn't expire until midnight.

The meeting with Accord had gone as well as they could have hoped. He'd agreed to curtail his criminal activities in exchange for Contract taking his "plan" to the president, when she finally met with the man. Until then, he'd work on revising it to take some of Contract's concerns and power mechanics into account.

Not perfect, nothing legally binding, but better than it had been. And no one had been hurt. His ribs were even feeling better.

In the front seat, the car beeped. The driver slowed the car down to the speed limit before the driving monitoring system logged the violation.

"Stupid speed trap towns," he muttered.

"You got somewhere better to be?" asked the agent in the passenger seat.

 _Don't we all?_ Contract asked Intrepid mentally. Since leaving Accord's office she'd been inexplicably impatient to get home. They'd debriefed with the Boston Protectorate and PRT, filled out paperwork, and completed other necessary activities and the whole time she had been antsy to get on the road.

 _What's up with you?_

 _Bad feeling. Can't explain it, but I think it might be my precognition._

Intrepid took a moment to consider that. _Nothing has happened yet. Your Jedi sense has never been any good this far out, has it?_

 _No. But there's always a first -_

 **Sound.** A jerk sideways and back in the seat, his seatbelt pulling him tightly. Shrieking metal.

 _Car crash,_ Contract thought at him, and for the first time all day it was loud. He was hearing her unfiltered thoughts. _Your gun - to agent Porter. Cut out. Ambush._

Intrepid turned his head. They had come to a stop; Contract's side of the car was relatively undamaged but his window spidered with cracks so dense it was impossible to see out of. There was a click, and then Contract reached over and undid his seatbelt too. Intrepid looked forward. The driver, whose name Intrepid couldn't remember, was pinned by the deflating airbag and didn't seem to be moving. The passenger agent was moving only a little.

Intrepid felt a hand on his gun and tried to catch it. He found himself looking into Contract's eyes.

 _Eidolon is watching me. If he's not already here, then this was planned by a precog blocker. Or something else even bigger is going on. Either way, we need to react. Give your gun to Agent Porter. He's only alive because my precognition and telekinesis let me save him. Follow me out of the car, and for God's sake if you get a chance to run, do it. Bring help. Please._

Intrepid nodded, then swallowed. He caught Contract's wrist before she could move away. He was panting, but realized he wasn't in pain. _You okay?_ he asked.

 _Not a scratch._

Intrepid heaved another breath in and out. What in the world was going on? Who could have done this? She waited, perhaps sensing that he wasn't ready to go just yet. Contract was okay, he was okay, Agent Porter was groaning, and the other agent, whose name he still couldn't remember, stared at him through empty eyes.

Who could have attacked the Ender without being stopped? Who would have? The answer came to him- nothing more than a gut feeling and a conviction but he knew, _knew_ it was right. "It's Jack Slash," Jason choked out, unable not to say it aloud.

Contract stilled, no longer waiting but tense as a piano wire. A fragment of a thought was all that answered him - _Jack -_

Intrepid understood her hesitation. Jack Slash was like no other threat she'd ever faced before. _It's okay. He's scary. Capes are scary,_ he deliberately echoed the words she herself had used after the kidnapping by the Boston Wards, _but you are badass. We're going to be okay._

She nodded, and then her game face was back and she was sliding out of the car. Intrepid gave his weapon to Agent Porter as Contract had suggested. He seemed out of it, but the gun would do no one any good out there, where it would be seen and anticipated. Expecting Agent Porter to manage some sort of ambush was a long shot, but it was better than the nothing else Intrepid could think of.

Then Intrepid was out of the car, and he had no time to focus on anything except following Contract as she circled around the tree that had kept them from getting pushed across a lawn. She walked around the front of the vehicle until they could clearly see their assailants.

It wasn't the whole Slaughterhouse Nine, but it _was_ Jack Slash. He had the Siberian with him. The woman wasn't touching him at the moment, but she was close enough that she could make him invulnerable in an instant. The third cape on Jack's other side wasn't one Intrepid knew.

Lanky build, greasy hair, wane features, sallow skin, and surprisingly normal street clothes on a middle aged man. He didn't ooze danger the way Jack Slash did, but Intrepid did get a distinctly creepy vibe off of him.

 _Wish you'd been wrong,_ Contract told him, and Intrepid sent a quick agreement. It was one thing to think he was about to see Jack Slash. It was another to actually stand in front of the psycho.

"Contract!" Jack said, as though he was welcoming a friend. "So glad to see you still walking!"

"Jack Slash," Contract answered levelly. She looked deliberately towards the cape Intrepid didn't recognize. _Vampire. Fast, strong, precog block._ "I take it help isn't coming," she added to mask the hidden conversation.

 _If you kill him, can we be found?_

 _Yes,_ she returned quickly.

It was the vampire who answered Contract, not Jack Slash. "No, it isn't. As far as the precogs know, there's nothing wrong."

Contract turned her head to face Jack Slash, dismissing the vampire. "Why shouldn't I just kill you where you stand?" she asked almost mildly.

Jack's eyebrows rose, making him look sort of offended. "You actually believe you could get past the Siberian?" Contract didn't answer him, but Jack seemed to accept that she could. He elaborated, anyway.

"You wouldn't just be killing me, little hero. I've tied my life to a great many others- I've lost count really, but Bonesaw assures me it's enough to make a statement- and you'd be killing all of them along with me. Robert Heely, Christina Deets, and Richard Nolan, to name just a few." The only name Intrepid recognized was Richard Nolan, who had offered to refurbish one of the capeless high schools at cost. "The only thing keeping them alive, is my life. I die, so do they."

 _He still has to die,_ Intrepid told her immediately.

 _And take innocent people with him?_ she demanded, even as she was nodding to acknowledge Jack's statement.

 _It won't stop. He has killed hundreds of people. You won't be killing those people, he will._ "Then they're already dead," Intrepid said aloud. _Do you trust me, Contract? If you trust me at all, if I am your partner, I beg you. Kill him._

 _First things first_ , Contract thought back. Intrepid ground his teeth and tried to think of how he could convince her. He knew that wasn't an agreement, but a delay. "How did you find him?" Contract asked, jerking her chin at the vampire. He snarled at being discussed so casually but Contract didn't so much as twitch.

"He found me," Jack admitted. Contract didn't seem surprised.

 _Don't try to help me,_ she warned. Then Contract turned her head to regard the vampire, shifting her weight so it looked like she was leaning on the front of their SUV. "Where's your brother?" she asked him, almost lazily.

"Why don't you ask yours?" the vampire snarled back. He took a single step forward threateningly, but didn't actually charge across the gap that separated the heroes and villains.

 _Don't be shocked by what I'm about to do._ Contract grinned her scary, mocking grin. "Good for Brooks," she crowed with quiet but evident satisfaction.

The vampire lunged forward, and it was over almost before Intrepid realized what had happened.

Intrepid forced his face to give away nothing. He'd known Contract was a hunter, and that she killed supernatural beings. He'd expected that she'd be more willing to kill the vampire than a human, even a human as bad as Jack. Even so, he'd never seen anyone beheaded before.

Contract stepped over the dead body, advancing toward Jack Slash. To him, it might look aggressive, but Intrepid knew better. She wasn't prepared to kill Jack. It was fundamentally against her ethics and religion - quite literally the worst and most power sacrifice she could imagine. It was a bluff, and would remain so unless Intrepid could somehow convince her otherwise.

"I would guess you've got about a minute before someone realizes we're not at the next check-in. And about ten seconds later, Eidolon is going to show up. So what's your move, Jack?"

 _What's our move?_ she asked even as Jack Slash considered her with what appeared to be new-found respect.

 _Kill him,_ Intrepid insisted, trying to think of any other way to say it. Could he reframe the question instead? Somehow remove the blame from her?

 _I can't,_ Contract begged. _What else?_

Intrepid fought down irritation which he knew was really panic in disguise. They needed a card to play, or they were both going to die. He didn't _want_ to put this on her shoulders, but it wasn't something he could do for her.

Intrepid's brain stalled, as he realized the truth. _Do you trust me?_

There was a moment - not of hesitation, but of realization.

 _Yes._ The answer echoed between them like a heartbeat. _Why?_

"My move?" Jack finally drawled, unaware of the conversation going on outside of his hearing. "My move is already underway. Just not here."

* * *

 **Chapter 53: Solution**

 **May 3, 2011**

Phil was aware that he wasn't fully processing the passing of time. There was a lot of pain, and a sense of being drunk, which was weird because the last time he'd been drunk during the daytime he'd been about half as old as he was now.

How did Phil know it was daytime? The head-pounding sunlight was a good hint.

Phil had a gun in his hand. It was not his gun, but Phil was trying not to think about that. If he focused on what was happening outside the windshield, he didn't have to think about looking up and seeing Kevin's lifeless corpse. The Wards had left him with a tinkertech weapon, which was better than nothing since his own gun was crushed, along with his hip and what felt like most of the right side of his body.

But if Kevin had still been Kevin and not a corpse, he would have said something like "damn useless hard light nonlethal shit" or "damn tinkers" or even "Why can't they just obey the laws of god-damned physics like the rest of the planet?"

Kevin had definite ideas about tinkers and their "infernal devices," and Phil agreed with him enough that he'd decided to arm himself with Kevin's gun instead.

Kevin would have also had something to say about the horrible pain that Phil was in, and the even more horrible lack-of-pain below his waist, but Phil wasn't thinking about that. Instead he was staring out the shattered windshield, leaning forward to reduce his visible profile, trying to watch the capes outside.

He knew which two figures were Contract and Intrepid, and he'd finally figured out which was Jack Slash when his face had passed into view through a slightly less destroyed patch of glass. Phil was moderately sure the cape closest to the car was the Siberian, but he didn't recognize the last figure.

Phil had Kevin's gun partially raised, but didn't dare aim it at anything. Between his drunkness or whatever injury was approximating it, the deplorable visibility through the windshield, and the likelihood that the windshield would partially deflect any shot he took, he was as likely to hit Contract as he was to hit Jack Slash.

Phil leaned further toward Kevin, ignoring the way that Kevin also sprawled toward him, trying to see out the slightly less destroyed half of the windshield.

The car rocked violently, and Phil braced himself with his left hand, stifling the urge to scream. Something in that hand was not working the way it was supposed to.

Contract was standing closer to the vehicle, and it looked like the unknown cape had been impaled on the front of the wreck. She ignored the unmoving cape and took a step toward Jack Slash. One more step, and she would be in Phil's line of fire. He'd be unable to help at all, and she was most certainly within Jack Slash's striking range. She's be dead before Intrepid could try to intervene and likely before Phil knew what had happened.

His gun came up, rock steady despite the pain and the concussion. Jack Slash was laughably close to him - he made much further shots on the range all the time.

On some level, he knew it was a bad idea. He knew that the shot would be tight, there was a risk of hitting Contract, and he didn't know who else was in the area. His vision through the windshield was blurry, and Kevin was dead, and he would be shooting through safety glass, even if it was already very compromised - wait, would that make the shot better or worse? - and what if the glass was distorting the angles?

Maybe he should empty the clip, just to be sure.

Maybe he shouldn't shoot at all.

But it was _Jack Slash_.

Only a moment had passed, and Contract could step forward at any time, putting herself in his sightlines.

His left hand came up to steady the gun, and he ignored the pain and ignored the black at the edge of his vision.

He managed half a dozen shots, before the pain from the recoil finally released him into unconsciousness.


End file.
